Tuesday is tree day at the farmhouse

It was a full morning: parcels to return, stamps to buy, gas to refill, fruits and untainted lettuces to resupply, doc to consult yet again about the never ending cough, tree to buy.

Breakfast first. (Such a good guy to put up with the photos, the cough, and, well, my Christmas love.)






In mid morning, I am at my grocery store, excited to look for a fresh little Christmas tree for the farmhouse. (I'd been told there would be a new batch in right after the Thanksgiving weekend.) But there are no new little trees. The store person tells me they are delayed. Until the end of the week.

Three scrawny trees, possibly frozen, because it is beastly cold outside, remain out front. The unwanted ones. I pick one and go back in.
What do you think, will it even last until Christmas?
She comes alive: last year  I bought one of the little unwanted ones and my boyfriend and I took off an inch and I swear, it was great for three months!

The idea of keeping a Christmas tree up until mid February fills me with horror, but I get the point.

I'll take it.


It takes no more than five minutes to decorate a tree this size. That's part of the allure. Indeed, price wise, it's a rip off: the full size version is only $20 more. Per branch, a small tree is a raw deal. Still, we keep things simple at the farmhouse. Snowdrop will get her big tree at home. Here, we enjoy stuff on a far smaller scale.

Snowdrop gets great pleasure in placing a gift from her -- a "macaron ornament" -- on top.  I hang two or three favorite ornaments from days when her mom was her size, and some tiny chickens, and finally -- three glass ones in the shape of candles. I tell her they represent my three grandkids. She finds an ancient holiday stocking in my shoe box of Christmas stuff and insists on hanging it on the tree too. It makes for interesting visuals.)






We are done!






The tree is in a new position this year (because of the screen that Ed has rigged up in order to experiment with conferencing technologies -- see below... talk about horrible visuals!). Snowdrop realizes that she can reach the top of the (elevated) tree by climbing up some stairs. The usual discussion about "how many stairs is it safe to bounce around on" follows.






Ah, but it makes for a beautiful image: the girl, the macaron ornament, the tree.






And then she is off and away, luring me into a game of going ice-skating, where she is the mom, I am the dad (talk in your man voice, gaga!) and we are giving her babies skating lessons.






Later, much later, I sit back on the couch and gaze at the little tree. All that beauty in a wee little thing. Remarkable.

Monday

Chicago is reeling from a blizzard. Over a foot of snow! Primrose and her parents made it home from Minnesota yesterday just by the skin of their teeth. In Madison, just a little over 100 miles to the northwest of Chicago, the day was cold and dry. Quiet.

*

You know the phrase plus ça change? A short cut to saying -- the more things change, the more they stay the same? Said with a tone of exasperation, or at the very least -- resignation? I thought of it when I heard the story of Snowdrop's encounter with the Claus duo yesterday. Snowdrop was with two boys (friends) and the younger one had asked the Clauses for a baby doll. Mrs. Claus shook her head on that one, suggesting that he may prefer toy trucks.

*

If I lived in Washington D.C. I would surely make my way to the Smithsonian to see the exhibition of the winning nature photographs for the year 2018. 60 selected, from 59 countries (tens of thousands had been entered). It seems to me that the best ones were taken by photographers that had at least three things going for them: talent, patience and luck. But I also think that if you're riding with just two of those in your pack, you'll still do very very well. As a museum spokesperson said, with digital photography, most anyone can be a photographer, documenting a slice of life for all to see.


I thought about all this when Sparrow came to the farmhouse early today.

(Sitting down to breakfast, photo by Ed)






The little guy is nearly 6 months old: able to do so much, though not necessarily consistently! Here he is, sitting, yes, easily, no problem! Except that maybe this time he'll take that dive to the floor.






Sparrow is the typical second child in that he has had to work around his older sister's schedule. But recently, his parents have really zeroed in on his own need for predictability: they've enforced regular naps (if at all possible) and as a result, this typically happy little boy is even happier (especially when it comes time to pick up his sister at school!).






(Snowdrop herself is delighted to be coming in for a large snack and a good amount of time for play.)






(Ed chats to her about her day in school...)






(Sibling love)






Eventually Snowdrop works her way up to story number three. There's a moon and an ocean in it and some tragic fate befalls someone, but I am only half listening: I am intent on warning her for the hundredth time not to play on the stairs. She loves their elevation, I fret constantly about their slippery, steep incline. We finally compromise: play all you want to. On the first two steps. She gives a quick thought to bargaining for more, then decides against it. Tragic tale continues to unfold, I breathe a sigh of relief.






And now it's very very late. Everyone is long gone. Dinner dishes are washed and stacked. I'm about to finish my post, but in my tiredness I erase the whole thing.

Don't you just hate it when you do something that stupid, at a very very late hour? Ah well -- the day was charmed in so many ways. We can forgive the trivial mishaps, when so much good comes our way.

Sunday

Snowdrop takes a rather sizeable clock to bed with her these days. She gets up when it plays a happy song. It was preset for 7:50 -- her weekend get out of bed time. This morning she comes looking for me, clutching her clock, explaining that it's not get up time yet and we should both wait for it to sing its wake up song. In her room. Since it is five minutes short of the magic hour, I agree -- okay, little one. I'll sleep in your room until it wakes us up!

The chipper little song is transformative: she is up, off and playing. (Only a child would find this to be a comfortable standing position.)






Eventually, I lure her to breakfast. Today she asks for "mouse pancakes." Don't ask. It has to do with a series of chapter books we've been reading about a mouse family.






(Decorating what's left of the pancake...)






Before we leave, I show her a picture that came in of her cousin, Primrose, running into Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus at some Minneapolis shopping venue.






She is tickled by the whole scene, especially since she herself is to go later in the day with her mom and friends in search of the elusive guy with the white beard. (I learn later on that she told him her name, but refused to divulge closely guarded secrets, like what she would like for Christmas. Smart girl. Telling mommy is a far better strategy.)





On our way to the car, I make a mistake: I let her chase after the chickens with the hope of landing another gentle little pat on their backs. As she considers her options, the cheepers gather around her. The thing is, they hadn't been fed yet and they clearly think she is bringing treats. When none are forthcoming, they reason they must search more closely. See how Tomato is arching her neck? Wondering if she is missing something?





Sure enough, one of them (I believe Cupcake) concludes incorrectly that the treat must reside on Snowdrop's dress. A peck at the bead on her sleeve takes Snowdrop by surprise. She never wants to pet or be near a chicken again. Ever.

This too will pass.


I spend the afternoon responding to emails. I am that behind in life!

And in the evening, the young family comes for dinner!

Just two pics -- a predinner moment and a post dinner exhale.











With a big smile.

Saturday

Sometimes I tempt fate. I mean, after feeling so terribly ill after Thanksgiving, you'd think I'd back off touching anything resembling food I had eaten this past week. But no: last night, Ed and I sat down to a delicious dinner of leftovers. The whole works -- from turkey to pie. After all, the whole purpose of cooking all day Thursday is so that you don't have to touch a single pot on Friday. All those post holiday recipes for Thanksgiving leftovers? Whatever for! Just pile your plate high with all your favorites, stick it in the microwave for 2 mins and 45 seconds and voila! Thanksgiving redux!

This brings me to an article I just read about feeling gratitude. The author asserts that we don't practice gratefulness on a daily basis. I have to disagree. I don't know where your thoughts fly as you stand under a hot shower on a November morning, but mine nearly always include a moment of appreciation for that good feeling of warmth -- an appreciation for this miraculous flow of warm water! Heavenly. And as Ed and I sit in our favorite spots on the couch each evening, I can't help but think how good it is to be in this quiet and warm environment.

I suppose it comes from too many stays in places where you could hear the noise of your neighbors. Stays in the village house where only one room (the kitchen) felt really warm in the winter. Or even in bed and breakfasts in the cold seasons, where the floors were chilly and the room never quite felt toasty enough. And if you've done laundry by hand too many times, you surely will sing words of praise every time you stuff your washer with muddied pants and stained shirts. I do.

And breakfast. With fresh fruit. In November! And with flowers! It could never, ever get boring.






We work outside again -- I for less time than Ed, but still, it is lovely to spread chips on the front flower bed (it gets severely damaged each year by the voluminous amounts of salt on our winter roads). And to admire the lights on the house from the outside. Faint in the daytime, but visible nonetheless!






And in the evening, Snowdrop comes for a sleepover!






We haven't made pizza together in a long time. Today is the perfect day for it. Let's get to work! First, let's shape the dough. Oh, those grand kid words -- I can do it! I can throw it in the air!






Let's just stretch it instead.

The best part for her is laying on her favorite topping. Snowdrop, just on your half of the pizza, okay? Ours is garlic and mushrooms. There was a time when she would have been okay with that. These days, she has her preferences.






Ten minutes later, it's ready.







Oh, the fun one can have with a pizza slice! The crunch, the pull...










Young and old...






It's all pure magic.

Games follow. Her preferred one for tonight: "the kids are making a mess: what's a person to do?"






I throw out solutions, she rejects them all. The "kids" are rambunctious. I see a bit of projection here. Time to settle down into a cozy read. Which of course lasts way too long. But that's what sleepovers are like: you play, you stay up too long and you never, ever sleep late the next day!

the day after

You could say that I spent the whole night drinking.

Now, now, it's not as bad as it seems. Or at least not as self indulgent as it sounds. The fact is, that after the last Thanksgiving dish was cleaned and after I'd clicked "publish" on my Thanksgiving post, I got sick. I mean, not just petty "I ate too much" stuff, but violently sick.

Of course, my first thought was -- I poisoned my family with the Thanksgiving foods! Dizzying thoughts like that alternated with terrible bouts of all that happens when your digestive system crashes on you.

There was one glimmer of hope (and only one, because when you are reeling from feeling terribly terribly sick, you tend not to look at life in rosy ways) -- Ed was not sick. And no one from the young family was texting at night reporting any such misery. So maybe I did not poison my family after all? Maybe it was the romaine lettuce I consumed early in the week, before the recall notice went out. (Or any other raw veggie product -- I mean, I eat so many leafy greens!) Maybe.

But in the meantime, I was rapidly dehydrating and so Ed and I set out for the ER room where they pumped me up with fluids and anti nausea meds and eventually (like, early this morning) sent me home.

It was quite the dramatic night.

On the upside, everyone who has eaten here in the last few days continues to be fine. This makes me very happy. Too, no one was depending on me for child care today and so I could sleep in. And sleep in I did! Ed and I sit down to breakfast at 2 pm! (He's eating Thanksgiving leftovers. I'm sticking with my usuals.)






I felt confident enough to cheat on permissible foods -- a cup of coffee tasted quite wonderful.

And after? Well, as Ed said at "breakfast time" -- we only have a few hours of daylight left. I push myself to go out and help with delinquent raking (must get rid of those lotus seedpods that are littering the flower beds!). It's been so cold this late fall that I've rarely worked outside. Today we had a temporary uptick in the temps (all the way to 47f!! -- or 8c) and so it was imperative that we do such things as unfreeze the hose, spread some wood chips and well, pull out those seedpods.






I didn't work too hard, but it was good to be outside for a short while.


Life is full of peculiar little twists and turns, isn't it?!

Thanksgiving Day photo album

Thanksgiving morning. How did you spend it? Quietly maybe? Busy with herding kids or fixing foods?

I'm in the kitchen, ready and waiting for the arrival of Snowdrop, Sparrow and their parents.






Our breakfast is informal on this day. We come to the table, pick something to eat, carry it to the next room. The TV is on. Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. You're surprised? My girls have loved this bit of silly fun for a long, long time. Here's something I read in the NYTimes that feels right to me:


It is a hard rite to explain: To commemorate the multicultural harvest feast of 1621 at Plymouth Rock, about three million New Yorkers and visitors annually station themselves on freezing late-November streets to watch giant inflatable branded cartoon characters, all promoting a department store that filed for bankruptcy protection more than 25 years ago.

Black Friday sales, SantaCon and the New Year’s Eve ball drop in Times Square — are largely adult affairs, but the Thanksgiving parade belongs to the children.

So the TV is on and I forge ahead with the cooking. And that cooking forms the backbone of the day, first in lunch preparations (squash soup and grilled cheese sandwiches today), then dinner. And I have to say, age brings some bit of savvy to the process, because the goal was to have Thanksgiving dinner ready by 5:30 and I was off by only five minutes.

No more commentary. Here's our day, as told in photos:

















































(Sparrow tries squash soup. He's neutral about it. Sort of like Snowdrop.)
























(Facetime with Primrose! We miss you guys!)






(I splayed the turkey again this year: you wiggle the drumsticks out of the sockets and press them down in the pan. It's the best way I know to get the breast and dark meat to be ready at the same time.)
























(Cranberry/cherry pie. I did not bake it!)






(Sparrow is much more enthusiastic about whipped cream! So is his sister.)






Such a full and beautiful day! Looking out right now I catch a glimpse of the beaver moon behind a thin layer of misty cloud. It's shining brightly on us, on you too, I expect.





I hope your table had good foods on it today. I hope you had a peaceful and happy Thanksgiving.