Wednesday

On this bitter cold morning, my computer (temporarily) died. It was, of course, a significant event because it meant that I would have to devote time to its resurrection. How unfortunate! Our local Apple store is chaos in the off season. It is many multiples of chaos at this time of the year. Still, I go through the steps of finding a slot to have a repair person take a look at it. And Apple directs me to a tech store that is actually a stand alone shop, rather than an offshoot of the tech giant.

This is a fantastic outcome! Never again will I go and push my way toward the Genius Bar at Apple (if you've had to do it, you'll know what I mean). I can work with the tech support in a quiet, gentle setting, where you can get an appointment the same day!

It is an example of how a bad start to a day can flip and become a lesson learnt. And by the way, the fix was simple and pure. I am typing away as if nothing had happened.

There is little reason to go out otherwise. Yes, the skies are blue, but the cold is starting to really penetrate everything. The car takes a long while to warm up. The ground is frozen hard. The cheepers do their one legged stand in a sunny spot, the porch cats huddle on their flimsy little heating pad. It feels like February out there.






Breakfast preparations -- just before my run to the tech store.






And in the afternoon, I play with the kids.






We spend the early evening in the "office."






Sparrow loves being included in the very serious business of writing and drawing stuff. (Snowdrop is making a case for keeping a flying pig hat I had placed in a pile of Goodwill stuff.)











And the full winter moon shines brightly on all of us...





... even on my mom, who is in the hospital again tonight. It's so fortunate that she made the move here from California last year. She may be in a cold climate now, but she is a stone's throw away from where we live. And that's such a good thing.

Tuesday

I am lucky in travel. Most of the time I've had good outcomes. Even when things go wrong, they don't quite reach horrible levels of misfortune. I never come home thinking - that was one awful trip! Nothing went right!

Right now, I am also thinking that I am lucky when I choose not to travel. For the past couple of decades, I've always gone to Poland and France in December. Initially it was to see my father, with whom I had little other contact. When he died, I continued my winter travels. I wanted to spend time with my sister and with my Polish friends. Stopping in Paris on the way back was routine: Paris is delightful before Christmas. This year, I decided not to go in December. And that is such a good thing! The travel chaos in France right now is of monumental proportion. It may well have been the trip that would have had me come back thinking - that was one disastrous set of days!

So here I am, in south central Wisconsin, sipping a cafe au lait and eating a pain au chocolat, while the TV in the background lets loose a torrent of French words.






I'm at La Baguette, a cafe bakery that I used to come to when I lived closer to it (and when Ed and I had a greater bread addiction). It's run by a French family and it is really simple, homey and, well, kind of nice. The buche de Noel wouldn't catch your eye in Paris, but it's the kind of cake you'd find at this time of the year at your local bakery down the road, in a small French town.





Despite the fact that the owners have lived in Wisconsin for probably upwards of a decade, they haven't lost their Frenchness. And they speak French to each other and anyone who wishes to join in and so I am having my December French moment. In Madison.

It's very cold outside. The Arctic blast may be a few degrees tamer than the one we had in early November, but still, when I went out in the morning to feed the animals, we were at 12F (-11C). I had early morning errands and so I skipped breakfast (sacrilegious but necessary) and this is how I found myself at La Baguette in late morning.



In the afternoon, of course, the kids are at the farmhouse. Again, I am lucky: Snowdrop and Sparrow are in good form right now.Today was a great example of their best. He let me zip through a whole bunch of books that she wanted and he couldn't possibly understand. Then she created stories out of the most extraordinary nothings while I played happy games with the little guy.












We hardly noticed that it was a super cold day today. Hardly.

Monday

I have three little elves on the little farmhouse tree. Symbols. One for each grandchild.






This, in addition to the simple ornament of the two little children (girls!) looking out a window pane. I've had that for decades. My two little girls.

There are a few other symbols hanging down from the branches: chickens, for our farmette life. A pine cone Santa. Candles of light. Macarons. And that's it. I like to look up at the tree and one or another of these comes into focus and it always makes me smile. My deepest affections, summarized on a tree.

One may well look at the colors on that tree, because it is, otherwise, a gray and foggy day. The cheepers hide in the the barn. The porch cats stay on the porch, playing.






We're waiting for real winter weather. It's expected, within hours.

Breakfast prep: this is when you remind yourself how utterly warm and cozy your home is.






In the afternoon, I head to the kids' school. First, I go for Sparrow.






Then Snowdrop. We make our way home. (She is wearing a dress of her choice. The young family is heading to a holiday party in the evening. She'll surely be a conversational ice breaker!)






Sparrow, not that book again!!






(The prancing unicorn...)






And then the sun sets and the clouds clear and the temperature falls. Tomorrow will surely feel like the thick of winter.

Sunday

Well, tomorrow's snow storm is forecast now to be a rain storm. Still, the temperatures are plunging thereafter and so I think you could say that this is the last of the milder days of this season. [I am always puzzled as to what we should call these early December weeks. Fall? Absolutely not! We've suffered through snows and Arctic blasts already. There is nothing Fallish about early December! Winter? That inevitably leads to the correction: not before December 21st! So, I stay with the generic "this season," allowing the weather gods to surprise us with their tempests and tantrums.]

Ed and I do go out and play a short round of disc golf.

It's not the same as those barefoot-in-the-grass games we had just a month or two ago, but it is a gentle way to spend time playing outdoors.


And in the evening, the young family comes here for dinner. As I work on the meal, I glance out the kitchen window. Toward dusk, all the animals are out on this pleasant December day. Stop Sign naps on her perch, but the kittens, the shed cats, and the cheepers are all playing or scratching within a few feet of each other.






It's so good to see everyone getting along! This is not a given: we've had feisty chickens. We've had hissing cats (indeed, in her younger years, Stop Sign would be quite the mean girl). We've had evil roosters. Right now, there is none of that. They all get along.



Hey, the gang is here!


 








Dinner -- pasta with shrimp and squid in a tomato sauce, a favorite of both kids and grownups -- is always a lovely way to end the weekend. Here we are, hanging on to the last bits of free time, family time.






Breathe in, smile, exhale. Hug. The kids have been really into giving each other hugs. It's such a noble impulse. We'd do well to imitate it. Constantly.

Saturday

Like every busy person on this planet, I need a catch up day. A day when I sit down and organize my holiday shopping lists. A day when I finally get the guest room in order following last week's visitors. A day when I fold laundry, shop for groceries, sweep out the mud room, pack up donations to Goodwill, firm up our holiday plans. I'm sure you have these same needs, especially if you're a Christmas celebrator. (The time between Thanksgiving and Christmas is extra short this year!)

It's a hazy-sunny day and Ed, from his reclining position (he is still a sick guy) proposes a walk. I try to use my most gentle voice as I respond -- Ed, it is almost dusk and I have yet to sit down and check the headlines in the newspaper. A walk does not fit into my catch-up day.

And then I recoil: what have I just done? Put off hearty walk on a day that is so very pleasant (for November), knowing that in two days we're getting both a snow storm and an Arctic blast?





I am incorrigible. I may as well forget a New Year's resolve promising myself a fitful, healthy approach to the everyday. I'm failing in my practice run: I have made no significant changes to the way I move through the day. I am a fitness loser.

Well, maybe not too late. As the sun nears the horizon, I ask Ed -- want to walk?
He's asleep.

 I go out for a quick saunter alone.





In the evening, there is a holiday party at a downtown hotel ballroom, for the employees and employers of the company that bears Ed's imprint.  Over the years, the firm has grown and the number of people I know has shrunken. Nevertheless, a good life's partner shares in the ritual of attending holiday parties.

I am not a good life's partner. And I am encouraged to be a not-good-partner by Ed: if you're tired, you don't have to go.
Have you ever had this kind of discussion with your sweetie?
Me: you mean you don't care if I go or not?
Him: that's right. If you want to stay home, you should stay home.
Me: you *don't care?*
Him: I do care! I just think you should decide what's best for you.
Me: so you would like me to go?
Him: I did not say that.

We go around like this for a while, several times in the course of the day. The fact is, I love a good party! Just not on a cold night in winter, with people whom I only know in passing, and after a busy catch-up day.

Still, I haven't a meal planned for the day, the people are sure to be jovial and nice....

Sometimes you just have to brave the cold and head out.

(And coming home afterwards always feels so good!)

Friday: the tree

Picking up a Christmas tree is not that complicated when you live in Wisconsin. I mean, we are in the top five on the list of tree growing states. Chances are you got your tree from one of our tree farms. A number of plant stores in town sell them. Grocery stores sell them. We're golden!

Our family has had a special fondness for the trees sold by the University's Forestry Club. Over the decades, we have set aside time, late on the first December Friday, to stop by the Stock Pavilion (which has the look and feel of a huge barn) and pick up a tree there. The prices are unbeatable: you can grab a balsam fir of any size for $45. The money is used to benefit the programs supported by the Club. It's a great way to bring a tree into your home.

If you have been looking in on Ocean for a number of years, you'll perhaps remember that Ed and I do not have a large holiday tree at the farmhouse. At first, I used a potted norfolk pine for a tree substitute. That was fine, but my potted pine has sprouted in many directions and it is, in fact huge. It looks more like a monster bush than a Christmas tree. And so a couple of years ago, I began to bring in a little Christmas tree here. Ed was a little concerned about a cut tree, but I assured him that if it wasn't for our purchase, trees would not be planted, birds would not nest, our landscape would grow barren. In other words, growing Christmas trees is good for the environment. Even if they do eventually have to be cut down and brought indoors.

The young family, however, continues the old tradition of going to the Forestry Club. But, last year, when we merrily drove over after school on Friday (the sale runs from Friday through Sunday), there were hardly any trees left! We purchased a reject. It was in the end a fine reject, but there really was no choice.

This year, we think we're smarter. Mom and kids will drive over and meet me at the Pavilion at 8 in the morning -- the opening hour of the tree sale. Mom will take tree home and still get to work before 9. I'll shuttle the kids to school.

Great plan!

Not wanting to be stuck in morning rush hour traffic, I do everything early. I feed the animals early. I shower and put on my best gingerbread man shirt early. I tell Ed we can eat breakfast after I get back. No problem. The guy's still half asleep. I drive up to the Pavilion ten minutes before the opening time. Brilliant!

Or is it?

I see a long snake of a line extending from the Pavilion, around the corner, onto one of the campus streets. Dozens and dozens of cars! The set up is the same as always: you drive into the Pavilion, you get out, pick your tree, pay for it, some forestry student ties it up to the roof of your car, you drive out. The Pavilion can accommodate maybe five, six cars at a time. There are many trees. People are (understandably) poky in making their selection. I get to the tail end of the line thinking  -- this is going to take forever.

My daughter, arriving promptly at 8 with the kids is even further down the line. We confer by phone. There are so many cars before me! Even more before her. Some cars come in from the side and try to budge the line. Sometimes successfully. Chaos reigns.

My daughter is worrying about getting to work. The clock ticks.

We have a plan! This is it: I will ditch my car in a campus parking lot. I'll walk over to my daughter's car, grab the kids and hustle them inside the Pavilion. We pick the tree. I take photos. By the time she drives into the Pavilion, the tree will be ready to be hoisted up onto her car.

What could possibly go wrong??

I get the kids out. Sparrow is heavy and slippery. Snowdrop would have been fine on her own on the sidewalk, except that a police car chooses this moment to drive up along the sidewalk to get to the head of the line, possibly thinking that they can in some way reign in the chaos. She clings to me. Sparrow slips precipitously as we stumble along into the Pavilion.

Oh the trees! The beautiful trees! Kids, lets take off the jackets!
(Gogs, I'm a little cold...)






Okay, put on your jacket.





(Gogs, I'm warm ...)


Despite the traffic, the confusion, the difficulty in picking, given that most trees are stacked one against another, Snowdrop is in fact in a state of delightful exuberance -- happy as can be, she dances between the tall firs and tries her hardest to pick the best possible tree for their home.

Sparrow, on the other hand, is terrified. I try many, many times to put him down next to a tree, any tree for that beautiful photo of kids in the thick of pines. He will have none of it. Full of tears and unhappy cries, he runs to me with arms outstretched. This is the best I could do, in a moment when I asked him to look up, just for a second....

(Oh, but the trees are so tall! So scary tall!)





Well, never mind. We pick a tree that seems a reasonable size (I rely on Snowdrop for this -- I cannot pull out trees and hold onto Sparrow all at the same time), get a student to saw off a few inches and lo, here comes mommy in her car!

You could posit that all is smooth from hereon. You would be wrong.

I get the kids in the car and attempt to start it. Nope. Key is stuck, wont turn, wheel is firmly stuck, wont turn. I write this because maybe someday you'll find yourself facing this very predicament. Everything is locked, nothing moves. What do I do?
Ed!!!
What's up, gorgeous?
I'm in the car with the kids and everything is frozen solid. Nothing moves!
Try turning the wheel hard.
I cannot! It wont budge!
Can you get out and roll the car in neutral?

I do that. Problem solved. Snowdrop pipes up: I told you to push the car! Someday, I'm going to learn all about driving!
Nothing daunts her today. She is one happy child.

And in truth, everyone buying trees this morning was if not exuberant, then at least in a state of good cheer. Despite the lines (I had been sitting in the car waiting to snake into the Pavilion for close to 40 minutes), despite the difficulty in sorting through all those heavy trees, people wore goofy smiles on their faces, perhaps loving the smell of fir, perhaps feeling happy to be finally inside, among dozens and dozens of tall, beautiful trees.

The kids are late for school. Breakfast with Ed is very very late...





But on the upside, my daughter made it to work on time.


I set aside time this morning to decorate the little farmhouse tree. That takes all of five, maybe ten minutes.






And in the afternoon, Snowdrop comes over...





But not for long. We are due at her home in the early evening. Today is their tree trimming extravaganza. Gaga helps.

Sparrow is, initially, intimidated by the tree, the boxes of ornaments, the rearrangement of the living room. It takes a while to get him to accept the new normal!






(Finally: a relaxed little boy...)






Snowdrop does help toward the end, but she is also a tired girl. It's been a very long day for everyone.






(the ever present smiles...)






(the Christmas books...)






The trees are up, the lights are aglow. The colors of the season are fully upon us!

Thursday

I'm sure you have them as well: days, where you set out early and one thing leads to the next, and then the next, and then the next, and you follow this chain until the final link, when late, oh so late, you pull into the driveway, come into your warm home, throw down your coat, your purse, your bag of food for the day and heave a great big sigh of relief.

When at breakfast Ed asks -- what do you have for the day? -- my response is "don't even ask."
Feeling perhaps that I could use a pat on the back, he tells me -- gorgeous, take my picture.

It's become somewhat of a funny skit now. When he wants to show his willingness, his desire to help me reach a point where I can smile about everything, he'll ask, indeed plead for that photo.











Animal care takes a long time again. I don't really understand it. Perhaps it's that on crispy cold mornings you are more attentive, less casual about it. Porch cats, chickens -- they need your help after a cold night. (I have no pity for the shed cats, who lead a life of luxury out there, in the heated sheep shed.)

But the day warms up past freezing again and shortly after our morning meal, I set out on that first link, which is a quick run to the grocery store. Everything is a little off schedule, since my last grocery trip was on Tuesday before Thanksgiving. Last night I still managed to scrape up a solid dinner based on turkey leftovers, but I need to look ahead to other foods now. So I shop.

And I pick up a little Christmas tree!






From there, I go straight to a Thai place for lunch with a friend. Me, eating lunch out is so unusual that it completely throws me off balance. I feel I should nap afterwards. Isn't that what you do after a big midday meal? Aren't siestas there exactly for that purpose?

But I don't have time for that. My next link is picking up the kids and bringing them over to the farmhouse. Along with the wee Christmas tree.






("No, Gaga, I don't like it up on top of a crate! I want to reach the top!")











And then comes that tricky Thursday medley: of getting Snowdrop into her dance gear, hustling both kids back into the car...

(such a beautiful sunset!)






... and then into the dance studio, where Sparrow is picked up by a parent and I make sure Snowdrop is prepped properly for her class.

I watch for a while...





... and then the second parent comes and I'm off to pick up Ed's favorite take out food (at Chipotle).

By 6:45, my coat is off, the trays of food are on the table.

Wednesday

On this beautiful day, we're kicking around various irritants. Ed is under the weather. One grandchild has a medical procedure to go through, one great grandmother is bouncing around health concerns as well. Ah well, we're all headed in a good direction (meaning getting better rather than getting worse) and this in itself is reason to rejoice.

And the weather! Oh, the weather! It's beautiful! I mean, November beautiful, but still, I am taking note of the sunshine. It is lovely to wake up to!






Animals, enjoy it, because the deep freeze is lurking, waiting to make a reappearance.






Days that are pretty have a way of escaping. Running way from us. Perhaps it's because we want so much from them! They should not be wasted! On a freezing, icy gray day, time can stand still. You can light soy candles, you can play beautiful music and still, the clock moves slowly. That's not necessarily a bad thing. You can accomplish much when the minutes crawl. But today, I look up and see that the clock has put us already into the afternoon. Never mind. It was grand to look up all morning long and see a blue sky.

The kids are here after school.











And I'm so happy to see them! There is work in child care -- don't let anyone tell you otherwise. But it's good work, where you do not have to question the worth of the hours you spend with them. Sometimes, especially when I am sick, when both are needy, when it's dark outside, time moves slowly. But this merely means that I have to put in extra effort. And honestly, when life demands of you extra effort, usually it means that you are going to be doing good stuff.





Today, the minutes do not drag. The kids are content, full of kind impulses toward each other. The books are wonderful, the snacks -- plentiful. And the warm light just keeps pouring in and the day zips by speedily, like a champion skater on glistening ice, all the way to the finish line.