Saint Martin de Belleville 2

This is why. This day, this complete weather surprise, this beauty, this pace, this blueberry tart eaten outside, stripped of jackets, caps, mitts, this afternoon, sunshine streaming in from the west. This leisurely walk en famille that racks up steps as if they were bunny rabbits set loose to mate. This is why days like yesterday -- full of waits and flights and transportation hurdles are worth it, because the day like today is so very good!

We catch up on sleep (and would have caught up even more had Snowdrop's alarms not kept going off all night -- the girl keeps a schedule of what happens when via her watch and somehow she managed to keep these logged in, set to disturb, even in Europe, which functions with a seven hour time difference). 

We wake up to a day that hasn't any cloud hovering near out terrace. Indeed, it's looking pretty good out there! And the view!

Oh, that mountain view...

 

 

Breakfast, the three of us...

 

 

 

... with so many favorites to choose from!

And now it's time to explore the village of Saint Martin de Belleville. 

 

("we're ready!")

 

 (our hotel is near the top of Saint Martin de Belleville)

(down below...)

There is a tiny and empty tourist office, which is helpful. I consult about walks in the area for later in the day. For this morning?  We walk the narrow streets and seek out the shops. Just out of curiosity. There is a bakery, a butcher, a cheese monger, a very small grocery store with very many bottles of wine, and one shop that I would say comes close to being 100% souvenirs. Immediately the girl spots a penguin stuffie with a Saint Martin de Belleville scarf. There are no penguins in the French Alps -- we remind her, but it doesn't matter. Why even argue. That penguin will be coming home with us.

 

 

We concentrate on the old blocks of the hamlet (or is it a village?). 

 

 

 

(restaurant long closed: family has moved on...)

 

 

 

And they are old, as are the farm-style chalets that line them. This is the charm of the village! This is why you want to ramble right here, rather than on the busy streets of Chamonix.

(snowball fight!)

(followed by ice cream cone. before lunch.)

Our lunch is at La Voute. It's a place of typical mountain comfy food, but of course my daughter and I are still digesting our breakfasts from this morning. Nonetheless we sit down at noon, because we have to be back and ready for Snowdrop's ski lesson at 1:30.

We (like the handful of other French people -- grownups all, the kids will descend here in February) choose a table outside. 

 

 

 

I love it when the sun is so strong that you can eat outside, and even take off your jacket because it's just so beautifully warm. Snowdrop complains that it's too warm. Way too warm. Her mom lends her sunglasses because her gaga didn't think to bring them along to lunch.

She eats pizza, we eat salads with melted mountain goat cheese. Heaven!

And for me, there's that dessert that I love in Savoie -- the wild blueberry tart.

(ready for a close up?!)

 

We walk back satiated and I swear Snowdrop could have done with a rest -- we're still a tiny bit shell shocked from the time change, but she has a ski lesson scheduled for 1:30, so promptly at that hour, we meet Mathieu downstairs. (Matheiu was born in St. Martin, but his mom is English, so he speaks a lovely English with a variation accent -- somewhere between British and French!)

I walk with them toward the ski lift and here at once I see how convenient the Lodge is to skiing. Perhaps not for experts -- you have to take gondolas or drive further to get to the difficult slopes. But for beginners and intermediates, the skiing is literally a five minute stroll from the hotel.

And she is off!

Her mom uses this time to shop (in that one souvenir shop!) for the boys and I take one of the walks suggested by the Tourist Office guy.

[The town that you see just below the snow covered mountain is the end of the line for this valley -- it's Val Thorens, a big ski destination, lacking the charm of the hamlets, but surely giving you every skiing option imaginable. It is the highest Alpine ski resort and perhaps the most modern. On the other side of the mountain there is another road, with a tunnel leading south, to Italy.]

 

The trail itself is good, but I sure am glad I brought my cleats! It's slippery! They had some rain last week and the snow has a nice slick surface to it! But the views are stunning. And the only sound is that of the rushing waters in the valley, and of dogs barking. (On the other side of the river, there is a dog track. Can you see the huskies and the sleds? )

I walk all the way to the next hamlet -- Saint-Marcel.

 

I want to vary the return trip and here I get lost. In a fairly nice way, as I get to see some more more Savoyard homes. And Savoyard people.

But I'm stumbling a bit with the routing. There are too many paths and too many dead end alleys!

(a barn with the distinct smell and sound of cows, producing milk that is then made into award winning cheeses)

Eventually I pick up a trail again. It's icy! Back to the cleats.

 

 

 

In the course of all this hiking, I make a decision about tomorrow. (Which I will inform you of ... tomorrow!)

In the meantime, Snowdrop comes back from skiing. You can't get her to tell you the details of it. "It was good! He threw snowballs at me and took a video. I wasn't great." That's it. The report of a ten year old.

I thought for sure she'd be tired. Walking, skiing, still not caught up on sleep. And so when I throw out the half hearted offer -- want to go swimming? -- I'm shocked when she says yes.

(it's not a large pool, but it's a warm one. with a view!)

I go in with her. She loves pool playmates and she has me to do the best I can in that role. After a while, I suggest we maybe should be done, and the begging begins: five more minutes! three more minutes! one more minute! I give her all of them.

 

We eat dinner at Restaurant Montagnard.

It's a cozy place and it probably has excellent specialty dishes, but my daughter and I are itching for a fondue, made with local cheeses. (Snowdrop opts for fish and chips.)

It's predictably wonderful. All of it.

A day like today checks off all those boxes, all those questions you have back home -- is it worth it, does it suck up too many resources, will we manage, will the place live up... Today was grand. Even if the weather, the skiing, the food, the moods all fall apart tomorrow, we will have had this day. I am so grateful...

with love...

Saint Martin de Belleville

Wherever I travel to in this world, I am asked -- why are you going there? Most often I shrug it off. Who knows what lifts me and moves me when I study travel possibilities. There's never an easy answer. It's not just the art and food in Paris (and sometimes neither is even important to a visit there). It may be that one place may have a landscape that I want to experience, another -- an attitude that makes me want to dive in. I can't really come up with just one reason why it's there and not elsewhere.

However. There is only one reason, and really one person that is responsible for me booking this trip to Saint Martin de Belleville in the French Alps: on June 21st, I was up at the northern tip of Scotland, staying in a house where a young woman (Beks) worked. We chatted. Her partner is a ski instructor. In the summer, she works up north (while he takes care of their kid). In the winter he works in the Alps, teaching skiing (while she takes care of their kid). I described to her the type of place in the mountains that would appeal to me: small, but not so small that there is no movement, no commerce at all. A place that's not overrun by zealous skiers and visitors (like me!). A beautiful place. You've lived in a large number of Alpine towns. Which one do you like best? She said -- go to Saint Martin de Belleville (in the Savoie region of France). Shortly after I booked my winter trip there.

I've maxed out my skiing years (I think), but Snowdrop is just starting. If there is snow, the skiing here should be good for a beginner. Let's see what I think of the village itself.

Wait, let's first get there!

It's a short 7 hours and 14 minutes from Minneapolis to Amsterdam. Enough to get in a cycle of sleep were it not for the flight distractions. That is if you're one of those who can sleep in the air. (They can, I can't.)  In Amsterdam, we have a nearly three hour layover. By 1 p.m. we're in flight to Geneva. The arrival is a breeze. No waits anywhere. By 2:30 we're on the road, heading for France.

 

No place is a perfect destination and Saint Martin has the disadvantage of being a little more distant from Geneva airport (or any airport) than say Chamonix (last two years) or Morzine (the year before). It takes us two hours to cab over to the village. The weather today is variable. Warm and partly cloudy in Geneva. Not so much in the valley wherein you'll find Saint Martin. Cloudy. Foggy. Or is it that we're sitting smack in the thick of the cloud cover? 

I'm not driving. I leave this to a local guy and this is not a luxury but a necessity. The last twenty kilometers are around hairpin curves, up a mountain, down a mountain, and here, the air gets cold enough that you start to see snow. Surely the roads are slick?

Our driver is in a hurry. We wasted time driving through Annecy -- there was an unusual amount of traffic. Too, if I understood the guy correctly, there was a bank hold up, resulting in barricaded streets and gawking passing drivers. 

He sped up and down that mountain in a way that surely demonstrated he knew the road well, but who cares -- it was terrifying. (He apologized afterwards and I suppose it's easy to forgive because he did not kill us, but he came dangerously close to it!)

It's a long and adventurous travel day, but at long last we are here: Saint Martin de Belleville. Population: 2600. Elevation: it varies! Some homes are at 2100 ft (640 m). Some are higher up at 11 700 ft (so 3560 m). 

We are staying at a fairly new and comparatively small place --  M Lodge. I have the larger room with Snowdrop.

My daughter is in a smaller one below us. 

The view? Which I wanted so much? Ha ha ha - look out our window. Fogged in.

I have a few minutes to unpack, to refresh, but by 6 we are downstairs at their "Bistro" for our first supper in France.

 

 

The food at the Lodge is super, but less focused on regional dishes than the remainder of our eating places will be. (Yes, you have to prebook your dinner restaurants in the Alps-- this is a small town and even in January, there are plenty of skiers here. We are, in fact, set for all the days we are in Europe.) 

It's a good beginning: the hotel is Alpine rustic and authentically beautiful all at once. The bistro has a party celebrating someone's fiftieth, the clientele boisterous and in a vacation mood. But the truth is, we would have eaten here even if they served fast food in cardboard boxes. We're tired, no one feels like exploring tonight, and importantly -- they are willing to seat us on the early side of the clock. (No French person worth their chops would be caught eating supper at 6!).

(fish for the girl; though what she really loved was... the octopus)

Back in the room -- the fog is lifting! It's dark of course, but we can see the contours of the mountains at last!

Tonight we shower, we crash. Tomorrow -- we explore!

with love...

Wednesday departure

The Siberian Arctic blast is moving on. Kids are back in school. Chickens are feeling upbeat. 

 

 

 

Cats are once again willing to stay out for more than two minutes at a stretch. The day would be almost normal, almost without anything pulling it in strange or novel directions, except, of course, this is the day I take off, with Snowdrop and her mom. (The girl goes to school in the morning and then we meet up at the airport in the early afternoon.)

The timing of this trip is good: Ed has recovered, I certainly have. No one is sick. There are no snow storms in sight. (Last year, we had to scramble because a storm hit Wisconsin just the day we were to leave.) I'm really ready for some mountain sunshine. My daughter is ready for some R&R with a good book, with maybe a sauna, or a walk in the mountains. My granddaughter is ready for any adventure.

These days I ask myself -- how long will I be able to do these trips, especially with a young one in tow? When my daughter asked to join us, my first thought was -- good, I have back up care in case I need it! 

Snowdrop is a great traveler -- I would not take her if she weren't. At seven she was still fragile around the edges, but by eight, she'd gained a level of flexibility and adaptiveness that made it easier to stick with it. By ten she understands what the demands are and she can deal with the unexpected. And so for now, we keep going.  Maybe next time she'll be pushing me in a wheelchair, but for now, we are partners in travel! 

First, though, breakfast with my sweet stay at home guy.

Soon after -- flowers watered, dishes put away, cats petted, chickens fed, bathroom cleaned, suitcase packed, snow brushed off the walkway and the car and we are off!

Our schedule for today is to fly to Minneapolis, and from there to Amsterdam, and from there to Geneva. I'm posting this from the airport:

Tomorrow, I'll post from a small village in the French Alps.

with love...

a Tuesday of closures

Well of course all the schools closed today. It's just too damn cold. I feed the huddled chickens when the thermometer tells me it's -14f (-26C) out there by the barn. Of course, that's before you calculate the wind chill.

 

Except for the cardboard  house that Ed built for him, covered with an ancient sleeping bag and with an electric pad inside (all this we keep on the porch), Pancake is a completely outdoor feral. And still he is better off than most living in the wild cats, who must cope without any heat source. Dance, for example, was born in January and she spent the first three months of her life completely outside. Now she just adores sleeping on the farmhouse heating vent, as if making up for those tough months.

 

(Pancake, on a brittle path)

Me, I did not sleep well last night. Texting with family, with friends, trying to make sense of the day -- all the way past midnight (at the same time thinking -- they, the ones with power, they're smacking their lips and rubbing their hands in glee; they have us exactly where they want us: worried. For nearly a decade now, it's been the ultimate goal. To knock down and leave whimpering those who care about the environment, economic inequality, health care access, personal choice, the rule of law, setting an example... Wait, doesn't that describe everyone? Shocking to find out that it does not).

Ocean doesn't tackle political problems, but what happened yesterday (following the inauguration) isn't just the usual political shenanigans of Washington. It has far reaching consequences and so I needed to tell you that I did not sleep well last night. In fact, for the first time since the week we learned of Covid's shutdowns and dangers, I took a sleeping pill to finally drift off for a while. 

Then this morning I rallied and put away the bottle of pills for when I really need them. I'm not totally there yet!

So schools are closed, the kids are home, the parents are releasing tablet time hour restrictions, trying to keep the three quiet while they work remotely. I understand Snowdrop is doing endless projects to keep her brothers occupied. Me, I begin the task of packing my own suitcase. Uff! Why do winter clothes need to be so bulky? Can I manage a carryon? Yes, but I need to expand it so... a carryon that's not going to be carried on.

I eat breakfast. Ed is on the phone discussing potential layoffs with the CEO of the machining company once the announced tariffs against our neighbors go into effect (maybe Feb 1st, but who knows, uncertainty is what we're living with now). I dont ask him to join me. They need to talk this through.

(oatmeal and red everything else!)

But within minutes he puts down the phone and comes over. Could it be that he needs these breakfasts together as much as I do? He scrambles up some eggs from our chickens (they're starting to lay again, slowly but surely). We talk about whether it would be fun to live a nomadic life at our age -- a few months here, a few months there. He thinks it could be fun. Me? Well what do you think -- the penultimate planner that I am, does that make me a good candidate for moving around and living out of a suitcase for a couple of years? At another time, in another life!

Now it's back to packing. How could it be this hard? Oh, you mean because the weather prognosis for our destination changes and includes everything from freezing temps to snow to rain to warmish temps? Well no matter. I dont equip myself for every exigency. Just the ones that will rip me apart if I come unprepared. (We will be in a small village with few stores, so resupplying would not be easy.)

And in the afternoon, I fight the cold and head out. To the sporting goods store, because a pair of ski goggles is stuck in the cavernous world of Amazon misdeliveries, and someone will need ski goggles. Not me. I'm abstaining. I think. Probably. Almost for sure. (I am a reluctant abandonner of one of my favorite sports -- downhill skiing.)

And I visit the young family. I need to drop something off and pick something up. I play "fighting cars and trucks" with Sandpiper, then watch Sparrow who is immersed in yet another Lego project.

At five, I take Snowdrop to Girl Scouts and head home.

It's evening. I was going to make a soup for Ed but I ran out of steam and time. Still, there are veggies, salads, eggs for me, tortillas for him. And a piece of chocolate. Grateful, and in love.

a Monday of interesting happenings

Of course you think I'm glued to the TV today, right? Watching a performance like no other? Doing my daily mile walk to the sound of pomp and fanfare in the living room?

No, of course not, but I am moving between themes that are so strong right now that one is more forceful and distracting than the next. There's the weather, there's news coming at us quickly, to shock, to make our hearts race and hope crumble, but then, too, there's a lovely lunch with friends, and there's packing, and ... did I mention the weather?

It is bitter cold. When the temps fall this low and I walk to the barn in subzero (F) temperatures, I often think to myself -- how did people manage before central heating warmed up our indoor spaces? How could you stand being so cold for such big chunks of each day for so many months? You watch those movies about the Gulag in Siberia, you read books about life in Wisconsin, Minnesota 150 years ago and you feel so guilty that you should have any complaints about life today. We have heat. I took a hot shower this morning. I flushed a toilet. I fixed a warm mug of steaming milky coffee. In those minutes alone, I felt like I was born in a privileged place, at a privileged time.

In these January days, I feel for the chickens. 

They can't walk far without a pause to warm their claws. If they do stand, it's only on one foot. And of course, they don't know that this too will pass. That there will be summer. That life will turn around for them soon (well, not that soon!). All they can do is take one minute at a time and make the best of it.

...while we, with some guilt, sit down to a lovely breakfast at home.

We shouldn't eat really. We have a lunch date with Ed's friends today and three meals for us is a bit much, but I cannot pass up my granola with yogurt and fruit and importantly -- my milky coffee.

I am absolutely habit driven with foods. I have great love for and total devotion to the small treats that are part of my day. Breakfast is the most obvious one. Lunch snack -- another. Wine used to define my dinners -- now, for all those blasted medical reasons, it's no longer a dinner fixture, but it does still make me so happy to have a kir vin blanc (a little white wine with a splash of cassis) with a "citrus, ginger and thyme crisp" or two from Rustic Bakery before the meal. And finally -- a square of chocolate in the evening, on the couch. All of the above -- total bliss.

But today of course, lunch is going to be unusual. We meet up with Ed's friends from long ago for a lunch at Miko. Some would call it a seafood restaurant, but it's more like a poke bowl place. And importantly, it's participating in Madison's restaurant week. Do you have those in your community? Here, several dozen restaurants serve up 3-course meals for an even $20. It's a way to get you to go out in January, when restaurant visits tend to plummet.

Yes, it's a lovely way to get me to do the (nearly) impossible -- push me out into the bitter cold!

And shortly after, I go to my daughter's house... 

(hi, Sparrow!)

 

... to help Snowdrop pack for a forthcoming trip.

The trip starts on Wednesday and it has become somewhat of a staple fixture in my travel year -- it's to the mountains and I take her along for the skiing opportunities that it provides for her. Why now? Well, her school has several built-in closures in the second half of January, so it minimizes absences. If I waited until March -- her spring break -- there wouldn't be snow. Finally, January is the cheapest of the ski months. Places I pick fill with families where kids are on semester breaks (February and early March). January is comparatively slow and everything, from airfares down, is less pricey.

Today we pack. It's a tough assignment. It is impossible to manage with only a carry-on because we need to pack warm outdoor clothing. I attack the job with resolve!  We did it before (last year) and we do it again today.

I then get Snowdrop ready for ballet...

 

 

... drop her off at the dance studio and come back home for lunch, part two: our boxed leftovers from the earlier meal with friends.

And a piece of chocolate. On the couch. With so much love...

year of round numbers

I'm not really a numbers freak, but 2025 has always seemed very awesome to me, purely from the numerical standpoint. For reasons that make no sense to anyone, and not really to me, I have adopted five as my favorite number (people always ask you "what's your favorite number" so I have an answer at the ready!). From there, it's a short haul to loving 2025. All those fives, multiplied, added, divided -- it all works!

With a numerically significant family (there are 11 of us), you're going to hit someone whose age is a nice combination of fives and in this year of 2025 (and therefore always on multiples of 5), we get four people in that group: Snowdrop (10), my son-in-law (45), Ed (75) and significantly (because it's today) -- my youngest girl (40).

Ah, birthdays! Most people love them, some pretend to ignore them. I am usually not present on the actual date for four family members (that would include the Chicago bunch, with the exception of little Juniper who has managed to gather her family for hers each year, as well as my Madison son-in-law who probably doesn't need his mother-in-law to blow up balloons for him), and of course there's Ed who doesn't celebrate at all. Polish people are more bound to tradition and of course they have both name days and birthdays, so in my family there would thus be not 11 but 22 annual celebrations were we totally Polish! A bit much? Not at all! Isn't it absolutely the best to have these excuses for gatherings with a celebratory flair to them? Americans make do with Super Bowl parties, where the TV is on and people get roped into tribal battles. Is that better? Well, thank goodness we do have Thanksgiving. What? That has a football component to it as well? We're hopeless!

Let's return to my daughter's birthday (today!). Since it is such a round number, I actually cleared my calendar, delaying trips and such so that I could drive down there today, in case this would fit into their weekend plans, but in the end I decided to postpone my birthday visit. They have a whole lineup of activities planned and rather than making the trip for a fleeting glimpse of the birthday girl, I decided to make a whole 24 hours of it -- but at a later date.

Still, this day is hers. Absolutely positively. Let me dig up a photo from her past, just to remind myself what it was like to love her, play with her, cook for her, teach her, travel with her, sing to her at age...11!

 

Happy, happy birthday, sweet child of mine! Such an incredible person you are! How can one not be proud and delighted and full of love for all that you bring to each and every day!

Meanwhile, back at the farmette, it is as cold as can be! A high of 4F (-16C) and it will get colder tomorrow and the next day. By Monday/Tuesday, our windchill is expected at -30F (-35C). At those temps, even hardy Wisconsin is likely to close schools, just because so many kids walk to school and the danger at that level is obvious.

(chickens, hiding)

(Sunday is "water the plants day" -- this includes the stunning bloomers I keep in the sheep shed for the winter because they're just too big to fit in the farmhouse)

 

Ed and I paused and did a reset. I still think it's needed. He still thinks it's just me being silly. Dance the cat is happy to see us both eating breakfast together. At least today!

We don't go for a walk. I do my pacing in the farmhouse: one mile of it! Who wants to be out on a day like this! Ed did invite me to go with him to a memorial service for a friend who died, but since I know neither the person, nor those attending, I tell him perhaps we should aim for a more shared experience. But not today. There's the cold, and, too, I need to stay home and fix dinner for the young family. 

Happy kids, happy parents. Is it because tomorrow is a day off from school? From work? Or because the bitter cold wont last beyond Tuesday? Or for no other reason beyond that we're here, we're well (finally), we're sharing a meal... Surely that!

with so much love...

"but it's the little things!"

Nothing like having your own words thrown back at you. Unintentionally, but still...

Every once in a while, Ed and I need a reset. I suspect most couples our age do, though maybe most dont bother, thinking that with time, you adjust to whatever the next stage of your life is like. Indeed, if asked, Ed would say that he needs no such thing, that we're fine taking each day as it presents itself. I beg to differ.

We had our built-in restart buttons all along of course. Beyond the trivial -- like saying good morning to each other in some lovely fashion, as suggested in the "35 things" article I linked for you two days back -- we went deeper. An example: we had breakfast. An important ritual for me, as you know -- in its careful preparation, in opting to get us off to a healthy start (oatmeal with loads of fruits), or sometimes to get us off on a pleasurable path (croissants!). We talked about the day before us. We took our time.

And let me just stay with the breakfast example (even though it's one of many): over the months, Ed's sleeping schedule shifted and I would have to wait way too long to get breakfast going. Or, I'd wake him and he'd oblige, stumbling down, half asleep, to nuzzle the cats and sit across the table. Increasingly, he wasn't really hungry for the oatmeal or croissants. Just the fruits. And then Covid came and we had a pause in contact and when we resumed, he slept late, didn't feel hungry for oatmeal, for croissants, for fruit, for anything. When he came down (late!), he'd be physically present and that's about it. And so today I had to ask myself -- what's the point?

Alone, I put on music or NPR podcasts. I take stock. I eat when I want to -- like before 10 a.m. But the easing and flexing of this ritual is not as important as the question that comes up for me: what have we done to replace it?

Giving up a ritual is pricey. The loss of effort is pricey. You become two ships, sailing in the same ocean, but with separate crews and captains. Not totally inattentive, of course. You're vaguely aware of what the other ship is doing because you don't want to crash into each other, and you want to wind up in the same place at the end of the day or week or life, but your overlap, though fundamental at some deeper level, on a daily basis, is actually pretty trivial.

This is what I told him when he did come down in the morning. His answer? But we do everything together! 

Say what? Can I have a concrete example? 

We're in each others presence all day long!

Yes. How comfortable. Bonded emotionally, leading intellectually separate lives. Which is, I suppose, natural for two people who have such different interests. Nothing new there. But this is why we need rituals and resets.

But why? -- he asks. You know I just love the little things!

Ha! Right back at me!

 

Since it is going to be beastly cold for the next three days, we absolutely feel compelled to take a walk today. In our favorite park. The wind is already picking up and the temps are dropping as we speak. The Siberian blast coming at us tonight is hailed as the coldest in forty years. Don't I know that time, forty years back! It was January, the dates identical to ours now. I was about to give birth to our second child. And it was cold! To her benefit I think: my delivery doc, the same one who had helped deliver my older girl, decided to come in that day because, as he said it -- I cant do anything else on such a cold day. In those days, you felt like you actually had your doc by your side (rather than whoever fate handed you at critical junctures of your life). And when we left the hospital a few days later it was still cold! Wind chills like you wouldn't believe. You had to feel grateful: 100 years earlier, even if you had a well heated home, you had no way of getting there without experiencing that wind. 

Our walk today was crisp! But nice.

I talk through resets using a lot of words, Ed does them with gestures. Sooooo different, in soooo many ways and yet, here we are, chugging along. With so much love.

coasting

I'm pretending it's spring and that I am train hopping on some complicated trip. That is my morning. The season deceit is easy -- we have this weird day, where suddenly the temps shoot up ten degrees above freezing, before being pushed out by the coldest front of this century, coming at us from Siberia this weekend. Thanks, Siberia. The train hopping? Well it's time to finalize some travel for spring and somewhere in the middle of the night I finally decided on how to handle a complicated travel trajectory. More on that in March. Suffice it to say that I devoted many hours to familiarizing myself with another country's train reservation system. Each country is different and though you can simplify things for yourself by merely reserving on some platform that gathers them all under one umbrella, why would you do that, when you can have fun imagining yourself in that country and figuring out how to do things like a local!

All this after a walk to the barn to feed the animals...

And a breakfast with a still sleepy Ed...

By noon, I slam down the computer and say "let's go!" There is no way I'm going to skip a walk today. We head for our county park. Blustery winds, but who cares! It's a glorious day for walking!

The sky, with a few delicate clouds, is at once delicate and stunning. We pause several times to admire it.

And then it's time for me to pick up the kids.

I can tell it's Friday: they're not tired, but I sense this need to just let loose a little. Away from the demands of school, of anyone really. 

I dont start in on a new book. Eventually, Snowdrop wants to reread a few chapters of a war story. Sparrow is glued to his Lego figures. 

 

And so ends this transition week -- from a confusion of illness and isolation, to our usual days of walks, kids, and yes, evenings: time for a movie for Ed and me tonight, on the couch, together, over bowls of hot veggie soup.Well, that's sort of how it's supposed to go, but he's not yet fully with an appetite, so no soup for him, and the movie -- one I'd been saving, because it felt so up my alley (A Real Pain, about these two guys, cousins, who travel to Poland to get to know the country their beloved Jewish grandmother had once called home). Half way through, I propose that we finish it another time. It may have been right for me, for obvious reasons, but not so much for Ed. Two guys grappling with their relationship to the past, to the present, to each other? No, I decided I'm better off watching it at another time, on my own.

I turn it off, I go to the kitchen to wash up my few dishes, I come back. He's asleep already. So yes, it's still really a transition week. We're past Covid, but we're not totally back to... well, the way we were before the new year set in.

with love...

get ready for the plunge

We get this teaser -- a day, two days actually, when for the first time in many weeks the temps will creep up to just above freezing. It's as if we're reminded what pre-spring will feel like (great!), only to get slapped down immediately after, with the biggest Arctic blast yet. (Monday will give us a high of.. 0F, or -18C. And we'll be starting that day at -11F, or -24C. Still wonder why I spend so much time thinking about, talking about, writing about the weather? It's never just boringly mild!)

 

 

 

The sun's out -- another benefit to the morning (it will cloud over by noon). But, but... are we back to normal yet?? Yes we are. Ed finally tested negative. True, he doesn't sound normal, but then, even simple colds have a way of lingering if you're, well, our age. Covid really knocked him down and he has taken his time to return to his normal only-two-naps-per-day schedule.

I have a morning appointment and some small errands to run, and I again make the mistake of doing this before eating breakfast. It all takes longer than I could possibly have imagined and so I sit down to my "morning meal" at noon. But here's the glorious upside -- Ed is now up and hungry for lunch and he comes over to the farmhouse freely, maskless, and whips up some eggs for himself while I churn out my oatmeal. Together at last!

He wants to go for a walk, but honestly - I'm out of time. If there is one thing I've learned, it's that I need to manage my days with greater care. I understood that fully this morning as I paced the very tiny clinic room because my doc was 30 minutes late. I could not sit still. What is wrong with me?! Since when do 30 minutes matter this much? That, capped with a "scold" from my doc ("no judgment here, but might you be overdoing it a little?"), gave me the strength to say no to packing in a walk, in between straightening the farmhouse and picking up the kids. I am reminded a little of the New Yorker cartoon, where the woman says -- "my calendar's pretty full, but I can squeeze you in between my post-holiday burnout and my midwinter blues." No, I do not have midwinter blues and by American-employed-young-mother standards, I live a life of leisure and decrepitude, but honestly, the day can get pretty full around here very quickly. One appointment and a few errands can kill a morning for me and, well, there is no afternoon downtime to recover the lost hours.

A quick read, a bit of writing and I'm off to get the kids.

In the car, I ask about their day. Sparrow's is a happy one: first tooth fell out, he wrote a letter to the tooth fairy. Snowdrop is less tickled with the events of her day. She tells me emphatically - I wish there was a girls' school, without boys. With the exception of you, Sparrow! You could go. Maybe one or two other boys. But not the others! 

I hate to ask, because I can guess, but I give her a chance to list her grievances: why? 

They ruin everything! In music class, the song sounded so pretty and then all the boys start making noises and singing badly on purpose, on purpose!! And it sounds awful. It's so frustrating! 

All the boys do that that? 

All! And in PE, we are on the volley ball unit. The girls just stand there because the boys just steal all the balls. Grab them before a girl can get to it.

What does the teacher do?

He tells them to stay in place, but they don't.

Well, you can feel sorry for the teacher then! You know, they just want to teach their subject, and bad behavior messes with that. Anyway, one lesson of school for you is how to get on with life despite difficult people, because, you know, difficult people are always in the mix. Ask your parents!

At least they dont push each other and beat each other up and make weird noises! (I'm thinking maybe they do, metaphorically speaking... )

To tone down her fury at all fourth grade males, I do remind her that of the two kids who cause most trouble, one happens to be a girl. 

Yes, but she is so much trouble that she requires a special assistant! The boys in music class -- they just do this stuff on purpose.

Listening to this discussion, Sparrow pipes up from the back seat -- in your all girls and all boys schools, what would you do with non-binary kids? The boy is raised in the 21st century alright.

At the farmhouse, we finish reading the book, they play. Sort of together. She's drawn to classic legos because he's shown such an interest in them and he's drawn into story telling because she always spins something that just pulls him in.

 

Their playtime is my catch up time. I make inroads on the veggies for a soup tonight.

And now it's the evening and Ed is back in the farmhouse. I cook our favorite soup, we turn on a movie. A mushy one. His choice. And he stays awake for it. Just barely, but who's counting!

with love...

Is January half done?

People up north tend to hate this month. (Then we move on to February and they hate that one even more.) It rarely pleases. In years when we had more snow, you'd hear a lot of groaning about the need to shovel. Without snow? People like me complain ceaselessly that our winter-long cross country skiing is getting to be a thing of the past. Sometimes there are unexpected warmups. That seems so wrong, so people complain. Arctic blasts, like the one this week and the even bigger one next week? Well yeah! Being hit with shards of glass in the face (which is what it feels like) is no fun. And it all lasts so many days! Too many days! Nor does spring follow! You know what does follow? February -- another month of the same.

January 15th -- today -- can only bring one of two reactions: fantastic! We're half done with it! (Glass half full.) Or: unbelievable! We're only half way through. (Half empty.) I think I'll straddle the middle: we're gettin' there! 

January has great virtues for me: it's a slow down after the mad rush of December holidays. And it is a real slow down from outdoor work on farmette lands. Ed and I are obviously not farmers, but from April through October we have endless projects that need our attention. Some of them -- like lily snapping for me -- are daily ones that take a lot of time. Some are heavy duty digs. Some, like weeding, are exasperating in their infinite demands. Yes, I love spring best, but I love that January requires of me only one gardening chore: to pick the plants and seeds I want to put in come spring time.

And here's a January bonus: we do not have to check for ticks.

 

It is cold once again. Ed is still in the sheep shed, saying "I'm better!" but sounding the same. So I eat breakfast alone, digging into the warmed cinnamon roll from Madison Sourdough.

(my trilogy of scrumptiousness!)

And here's my very own anecdotal evidence that January has a way of getting to you: I pick up the kids at school and as usual, we review the day, starting with a positive -- what great thing happened today? Each has something to relate, so that's good. But as we continue with our drive, Snowdrop says -- I wish it were summer. Now, this is a girl who loves the cold and claims to be a winter person at heart (she attributes this to having a January birthday). And yet, January is threatening to make a summer lover out of her! 

 

Since I'm feeling upbeat and kids have had good outcomes in school, I want to offer them something uniquely special, even as we've used up our treat stops for the week, so it can't be food. I have just the thing: kids, you want to go to the car wash with the rainbow soap? (The car is terribly salted-over and dirty).

Yes!! 

It takes so little...

 

 

 

 

At home, we near the end of a very fun book (The Library Girl) and even Sparrow, who usually loses himself in his next Lego building project, can't resist listening in. 

It shouldn't surprise me of course, but it always does -- children's literature can be truly amazing: imaginative, clever, fast paced, with well developed character,s and most often with satisfying endings. There will come a time when these kids wont be so enraptured with me reading books out loud. I'll probably have to sneak some for myself then! We've hit some real page turners this past year. Wonderful stuff.

 

In the evening Ed comes over, and this is how the day ends -- on an up-note, despite January, despite the cold, despite the short days and lack of snow. We eat reheated stuff and watch something very British -- a form of escape I suppose, to a place where Januaries never quite get this freezing and Februaries reveal snowdrop flowers, and Marches bring out the bluebells. Oh, but all their winter rain! I'll stick with our deep freeze, thanks. Who knows, maybe we'll even get snow. Someday.

with love...