30 days before Christmas

Is yours a home that takes in a Christmas tree for the holidays? Yes? So how and when do you pick it up?

I have to say, I tend to get stuck in repetition, for the simplicity of not having to think this through. For years, pick up was at the University Forestry Department. Okay, that wasn't super easy -- you had to be there at 8 to get a decent tree, but still, you pointed to one, you were done. Other times? At the local garden center. Conveniently located across the road from Clasen's Bakery so you could reward yourself for overspending on a Christmas tree, by now overspending at the bakery. Once and only once do I remember dragging the girls out to a tree farm, dull saw in hand, going the cut-it-yourself route. The tree was miserable, but we had hiked for what seemed like miles to find something decent and we would have taken a Charlie Brown special at that point. So I sawed and we dragged it to the car and I said "never again."

Ed initially hadn't been a fan of the idea of any chopped down tree in the farmhouse so when I moved here, I kept it really small: a wee one from the grocery store. 

But it grew. I mean, not the tree itself, but the size of it, over time. Two years ago I ditched the crate where it stood and placed it on the floor and from then on it was the proper size and I was happy. It wasn't huge, mind you -- takes me fifteen minutes to decorate it! -- but it felt authentically Christmassy. 

This year, I approached the project with prior warning to Ed. Yesterday I gently mentioned that I would be picking up a tree, reminding him that it was good for the environment and for animal habitats to grow trees, and he should expect it to go up sometime this week.

He asks -- why dont you go straight to a tree farm and maybe even cut it down yourself? Or have me do it? Look, there's a story about one nearby...

This is how today, after the usual animal/breakfast routines...

... Ed and I met up with the entire young family at Hanns Christmas Farm. It could not be closer -- just 16 minutes away along rural roads. And it could not be more beautiful. And let's be clear -- it could be colder, but not by a whole lot. We're topping the day at right around freezing once again. And it could not be more buzzing! It's our busiest day of the year! -- the smiling attendant (one of many here) tells us, as we watch cars stream into their parking lot.

There's a whole lovely story behind this place -- how the son bought the farm from his dad, who had started growing trees so that he could buy himself a new truck, how the farm grew, how hard he, the son, now works at nourishing the saplings and growing them into holiday trees, how he employs dozens of helpers, providing extra income to so many in the local community, how he donates trees to the zoo so that animals can play with them, and to our lakes, providing more habitat options for aquatic life. But what stands out to me is how special it feels to see the kids play between trees, picking their favorite (no, not that one! I really dont like it! How about this (monster big) one? Oh, come on, it will fit!). 

(and can we get this (monster big) wreath?)

Then moving on to warm up in the Christmas shop, to make a Wisconsin moment out of this ritual (rather than merely going to a big store and handing them money for a tree removed who knows when and from who knows where.)

A few more pictures...

And they are done.

Ed and I were going to saw down a tree ourselves, but honestly, the ones they had precut (just last week) looked so perfect that I failed to see the point of heading out ourselves.

Fast forward to the afternoon and my younger girl arrives with her family. We all meet up in Clasen's Bakery!

(Sparrow runs to greet the new arrivals... as if he hadn't just seen them yesterday, in Chicago)

(I haven't seen this girl since...August! Clasen's has a huge gingerbread house. Kids love it. Adults love to take pictures of kids inside...)

(And this girl! How she has grown! Catching up to the Nutcracker!)

(carrying their load of cookies...)

(and now all four are in the house. Sandpiper is home napping.)

And then we all gather at my older girl's home for some tree trimming fun.

So, more pictures...

(My older girl's tree trimming snacks are legendary! The best is Wisconsin's Rush Creek Reserve -- a cheese sold only in the late fall, still in the oven, softening...)

(Sandpiper doesn't want his new truck to go on the tree just yet...)

(the oldest and the youngest in the room...)

(cousins: a tree shape in front of the now decorated tree...)

(who will place the topper? Sparrow has the honor this year, but he is too short! So he passes it to Primrose who passes it to Snowdrop who passes it to her dad...)

(The older threesome take a bow and curtsey. They're all dancers. They know how to do it right!)

(Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree, your branches green delight us!)

(The evening ends with pizza and a movie. Which one? The Muppets Christmas Carol!)

And now we are done (with their tree) and all of a sudden, Thanksgiving is but a distant memory. We are 30 days before Christmas, but we are fully in the right mood for it. And that's such a beautiful thing!

the Friday after

Much can be written about the Friday after Thanksgiving. People shop and hunt for bargains. That's a given. How many emails have you been getting announcing best ever Black Friday deals?  It's also a day of regrets for those who do their shopping early. (Me!) What? I bought that at 10 percent off a week ago and now it's half price? Infuriating! And famously, it is a day of struggling with leftover turkey. Most people would agree that reheating leftover turkey is like reheating leftover seafood. Dryness sets in. Turkey and seafood do not taste good all dried out. The flavor's gone.

Cooks have long figured out that you have to lose those bits of turkey in saucy dishes that add moisture and taste. I'm sure if you google "what to do with leftover turkey" you'll hit a jackpot of suggestions and they all will include smearing something on that meat or drowning it in some moisture bath.

I dont disagree with any of that, but I do want to remind you that back in the 1960s, we had our own answer to the vexing problem of too much turkey in the fridge: we made Turkey Tetrazzini. Well, not "we." More like the populace out there. My mom never roasted a turkey and so we had no turkey leftovers. But, in my pre-teen years (like from about 10 or 11 onwards) I was responsible for cooking up my own supper (my sister and I ate dinner at 4 -- right after school) and there was nothing, simply nothing I liked better than popping a Stouffer's frozen Turkey Tetrazzini into the oven. That love stayed with me. When I was a young adult, starting out on my own, I'd also stack up on Turkey Tetrazzini frozen dinners. 

What is this dish, you ask? Oh, turkey bits and mushrooms smothered in a creamy cheese sauce, all mixed with some noodles. It was the brainchild of a San Francisco chef who named it after a popular Italian opera singer, Luisa Tetrazzini who happened to be in SF at the beginning of the 20th century. The frozen dish, made by Stouffer's, came much later -- after World War II, when frozen dinners became the rage. I swear, the reason these so called TV dinners were always so addictive was because they had a huge sodium count. Excessive salt always strengthens the flavor of bland dishes. 

So here we are, at the farmhouse, with, would you believe it -- turkey leftovers! Is it Turkey Tetrazzini time??

It is not. The thing about youthful tastebuds is that somewhere oh between age 22 and 22.5 they get radically transformed. Things that were once heaven on earth take on questionable worth. You have evolved into the world of adult pleasures and nothing from that period of preadolescence is terribly impressive anymore. 

So heads up: Ed and I will not be eating Turkey Tetrazzini today and, too, we will not be shopping.

What's left in life for Black Friday??

To add to our misery (if Turkey Tetrazzini depravation is indeed reason enough to shed tears), the high temperature today (the HIGH mind you) is only going to reach 31F (-.5C). We haven't grown our winter fur yet! That's way too cold to enjoy the great outdoors (when there is no snow...).

Brisk walk to barn (it's nowhere near 31F yet -- that blast of "warmth" comes late in the afternoon) to feed the animals. 

Dumb chickens still get confused when I walk there to feed them. Some run at the clap of my hands, others halt dead in their tracks, as if wondering -- where is everyone?

Breakfast. Oatmeal. Back to basics. Dance is not impressed. 

And then we get ready for the rest of the weekend. This includes such tasks as house cleaning and figuring out all those details of who goes where and when and for what reason on Saturday and then again on Sunday. You'll see -- it's going to be complicated.

By late afternoon, I'm ready to sprint out for a hike in our local park. No biking today. We drive and I and so glad that Alpine Blue has warm seats!

(the cranes are still grouping, waiting perhaps for the right moment...)

(ducks, not minding the icy cold waters of Lake Waubesa)

And how do we manage our leftovers? Pretty much the same way we managed the Thanksgiving meal itself: arrange what you want on the plate, being mindful that on this day you should eat less because yesterday was the national over-eating day, but the Friday after is not. Then pop it in the microwave, pick a good movie (NOT the end of All the Light You Cannot See -- I reserve that for an overseas flight where the standards for movie viewing are much lower) and exhale. With leftover turkey and leftover gratitude. It's all good!

 

Thanksgiving Day

The sun rose at 7:00 a.m. in our neck of the woods on Thanksgiving Day. I know this because just before, as Ed began shuffling about the bedroom (he was going to sleep, not getting up), I had an urge to be up for it. I hadn't witnessed a sunrise out over the lake in years. Perhaps since I first moved here ages back. This morning, I felt it was a proper way to begin the day.

It's 32F (0C) when I step outside. Can I bike in this weather? I don't give it a second thought. 

I pedal fast -- to keep warm and to get to the lake by 7. But just before the last bend in the road, I come to a full stop. Will this be my last Sandhill Crane sighting of the year? Shouldn't I take note?

Okay, now I am at the lake. A few clouds delay the burst of sunlight. Geese swim in the icy cold waters. All is quiet. 

Good morning, day. Thank you for all that is beautiful and kind.

As I turn away from the lake, I hear it. The call of the cranes. Not just one. I pedal toward their noise.

Turn west, then north, up the hill. Ah, there they are. In the early morning light.

So many! I dont understand their migration signals, but it seems to me (and perhaps I am projecting) that on this day they are preparing for their great journey. They clamor, call out, practice flight, come back down. By mid morning, I know these birds will no longer be here. 

A morning of cranes. Birds that are not afraid to give their full energy to something bold and dangerous. Beautiful, graceful birds that are said to bring luck. May they themselves have luck! Turns out we all need it to have a smooth flight in life.

My fingers are frozen, despite the gloves. I am beginning to feel the bite in the air. How do the Finns bike in winter? My face feels like it's chiseled out of ice.

At home, I feed the animals then return to the farmhouse. 

Ed asks -- where have you been?? Out with the cranes. I'm jealous! Would you have ridden with me? Well, maybe later. When it's warmer! 

I take a very hot shower and thaw out.

We have Thanksgiving breakfast. A combination of treats and fruits.

I turn on the Macy's parade. Ed rolls his eyes. I laugh at that: it's the American thing to do! I'm American and I dont watch it. Yes, I know. We have had 18 years of Thanksgivings together.

[For those who do keep the parade on in the background -- tell me, dont you feel like joining in the dance when the Rockettes do their thing? Always have, always will, knee replacement notwithstanding. Though I am glad the kids weren't here to witness the ridiculousness of me doing an up-kick.]

I am very aware of how different the holiday is for those who do not have to cook (me this year!). I make a cup of Cinnamon Plum tea. Texts from daughters come in. I smile. 

In the afternoon, Ed and I go downtown to Olin Park for a stroll through the lakeside woods. On a day like this -- gently sunny, peaceful -- it's a pretty walk. 

(The waters are so blue today! I know you see this view when I snap it as I drive to the bakery. This is a better vantage point, because you see the full swing of Wright's Monona Terrace.)

We pass a woman taking a photo of a naked oak tree. She feels compelled to explain herself -- I live in Las Vegas. We dont have trees like this there!

Here for a family Thanksgiving ? -- I ask.

Yes, exactly!

Have a happy one.

Thank you! You too!

Oh we will. We will indeed.

At home I have a late lunch. I mean, you're not supposed to eat a lot before dinner, right? And the official holiday season begins after the parade, right? 

The star shape is the traditional Clasen's chocolate covered gingerbread. The dusted dark cookie is their German Peppernut -- deliciously zesty! And the plain looking flat cookie? Not from Clasen's. It's a Finnish Pepparkakor. Gingerbread as well, but not too sweet, to temper the sugar in the others. With milky coffee -- it doesn't get any better than this!

And in the evening, I take out tubs of food prepared by Merchant. By their list: Roast Ferndale Turkey, Classic Turkey Gravy, Brussels Sprouts with Maple Bacon, Classic Mashed Potatoes, Roasted Beets with Cranberry Vinaigrette, Sweet Potato and Rutabaga Gratin, Italian Sausage and Apple Stuffing. There seems to be also a container of wild rice and broccoli which wasn't on the menu but hey, we pile it on!

For dessert? We skipped the pie option. Honestly, two small chocolate are more than enough to end the meal. 

Feet up, TV on, we watch All the Light We Cannot See. Wait, what?? It's not a movie but a series? 

Verdict? No, not as good as the book. Not even close. I agree with those who call it a cinematic misfire. No big themes remain with you, certainly not after the first episode. Will we continue with the remaining three? Not sure. Ask me tomorrow.

So ends Thanksgiving Day. If you're an American, I hope you spent your turkey (or tofurkey) day very well. With good food, and love in your heart. 

Wednesday before

What a beautiful moment: the day before, the eve before. You're ready for whatever comes next, no more fretting, you've run the clock and, like the garden in early spring, the eve presents no disappointments. It all looks good! Ready for the next day's bash!

So, I always loved The Eve. And indeed, the whole day of The Eve. As a young family, we had rituals for Christmas Eve Day. And of course, there's New Year's Eve Day. And, too, Thanksgiving Eve -- the day of it. Always on that Wednesday I would do the last huge and comprehensive swing through the grocery store. The girls would come with me -- not to help necessarily, but to wander through the store, the two of them, admiring holiday foods, looking for free samples, sneaking off list items into the cart. I'd be checking off a long list, hoping not to exceed some theoretical number (like, the bill from the previous Thanksgiving), but inevitably succumbing to the thirst to make this one perfect, so maybe picking up a special cheese isn't such a ridiculous idea. Say what? $15 a pound?! Well, it's Thanksgiving Eve after all. (The next day, I will have smiled at the stupidity of that reasoning. As if anyone would notice a special cheese on a day when there is so much food!)

And this morning, the Day of the Eve, I felt the same thrill. Even though I will be cooking precisely zero foods tomorrow, and Thanksgiving is all about food and a table packed with people and ours wont have the crowd either, I still felt the thrill.

So after taking care of the animals...

I drove to Madison Sourdough Bakery. The store's packed! Everyone wanting some of their bread product, maybe a cake, maybe a pie, maybe just those best ever croissants.

(always the gorgeous loaves...)

I had gone to sleep last night trying to decide if I should maybe go to another bakery, with foods that I dont typically bring to the kitchen table, but what the heck, I like the bread product at Madison Sourdough, so this is what I pick up now: croissants, pain au chocolat, a morning bun. I'll sort out what to eat when later.

The morning temperatures keep dropping each day and the highs for this Wednesday aren't all that high. We're topping at 42F (5.5C), which is very appropriate for November. What I notice driving home is that there are still two sandhill cranes by the newly restored wetlands across the road from us. I'm totally sure that they are the last pair that I will see this year. Most Sandhills depart right around Thanksgiving and the fields where they congregate have suddenly become very empty. Except for these two.

Hurry up and fly. It's not going to get any better than this!

Breakfast -- so cozy it hurts! Thankfully (that word!) Ed is not sensitive to the light whiff of Kobo's Rustic Pine.

We have not moved much in the last few days. It's as if that hike we took over the weekend was big and bold enough to carry us through a bunch of days going forward, but of course it doesn't work that way. You cant store your movements and spread them out into the future, so we agree to get back out there today. But doing what? Ed asks -- can you bike in this weather?

There's a bit of a wind and so the ears feel cold and the eyes pour out water, but yes, I can do it and it really feels good!

When you are basically lazy about going out, biking works a magic that hiking cant compete with. In 45 minutes, you have done your work! You are golden for at least the rest of the day! We return home proud and happy.

This is when it feels good to settle in for a good read and I pick randomly Zadie Smith's story in the week's New Yorker and it is so good! I gave you a link and if you're like me, who loves great coming of age writing, you will want to click and read it. (You might also want to read it if the teenagers in your household are driving you nuts with worry and exasperation. It's a good reminder of who you yourself were back then in those years.)

I do have one very important Thanksgiving errand to do today and that is to pick up our dinner at Merchant -- a restaurant downtown that is offering a whole Thanksgiving package for two. It sounds delicious! I'm on it!

Sunset, across the road from us: dramatic, at 4:28 p.m.. If you look closely, you can see a flock of cranes, heading out.

Still later, I heat up yesterday's dinner soup and I let Ed pick our viewing pleasure, because tomorrow I want so very much for us to watch my choice -- something I have been saving up for days now. But that's tomorrow. Today we are on the Eve of Thanksgiving. A happy, peaceful and so very beautiful Eve, when the New York City balloons get blown up to their full size, and the harried cook puts the last pie into the oven, and the rest of us just sit back with the pleasant thought that tomorrow, food will rule our day and we will truly be grateful for all the wonders that once were, and that are still to come.

with love...

Tuesday

Talk about ease of shopping: yesterday, I spent most of my free time (all the way up until midnight) buying holiday gifts. And I'm done! Now comes the awful part -- the daily arrival of boxes -- something that causes great anguish for my beloved acquisition hating Ed. I hide everything instantly and yet he notices it all. Still, I promise him -- most of it is for the kids and the minute the littlest one has cycled through all that's available here for their afternoons of play, the toys get donated and the play room returns to its prior emptiness. With maybe a comfy chair for reading. Okay, no comfy chair needed. Empty it shall be. I haven't yet given up my dedication (theoretical at the moment) to minimalism over clutter.

We wake up to a dusting of snow. Pretty, for sure, but so ephemeral and so very wet.

Breakfast -- I light my Montana Forest while Ed is out discussing a branch chipper with some Craigslist person. 

Then I snuff it out and switch to Rustic Pine. He claims this one is fine. As usual, I barely smell anything at all. I buy candles that are very low on fragrance. But my imagination tells me we have left Montana and are now near a forest and the scent of fir is all around us.

And speaking of growing things, I do some indoor plant maintenance today. We keep the huge orchid plants inside the sheep shed for the winter because they are just over the top and there isn't the space here on the window sill. After a summer outdoors, they burst into early winter bloom. I hope the sheep shed cats enjoy the display!

In the farmhouse, the Christmas cactus as usual has started to flower on Thanksgiving. It will grow dormant again by late December. Silly plant. For now, it surely adds color to the art room!

The two impatiens plants I bought in are doing well, the pelargonium - eh, they're getting old. I may rethink their fate come summer. 

The rosemary is robust, but I know its real test comes later when it strains for more light. Our windowsills just do not have that much sunshine (because of the surrounding trees... I blame Ed).

Inspection and maintenance done. I get in the car and drive toward the kids' school. Wait -- isn't their school close to Clasens European Bakery? And didn't I hear that Clasens is putting out "hearts moons and stars" already -- my very favorite chocolate covered gingerbread cookie, sold only at Christmas? We have had a long standing rule in our family, born of the days when my daughters were just little: the Christmas season does not start in any way -- not with the foods, the music, the stories, the movies -- until after Thanksgiving. In those days, we would have Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on in the background on Thursday and the kids convinced me that Santa, coming in at the end of the parade, officially launched the holiday season. Who can argue with that! But that means no Clasen's shopping until after Thanksgiving, right?

When you're 70 years old, you get to break the rules. You also get to keep your transgressions hidden from the world. So, telling no one, and especially not the grandkids, I drive over to Clasens and pick up a couple of packets of my very beloved cookies. I mean, what if there was a run on them? They might sell out! But shhhh! Tell no one! And no photos posted of my foray into that wonderland of holiday baked goods! 

Okay, time to get the kids. It's my last pre-Thanksgiving visit with them. A good one! The excitement of the approaching holidays is palpable! In fact, I had to ratchet it down a little. Too much bounciness doesn't always give us a productive afternoon.

(out the window, on our way home...)

And now the young families are in their own tailspin of Thanksgiving preparations and planning and I'm back at the farmhouse enjoying the images I have of them all, knowing that there will be stories from the holiday and there will be lots of smiles in the retelling. 

And tonight? Like I said, I'm taking control over the movie selection. Let me take a look at what's out there...