Saturday - 281st

It's just a coupe of degrees above freezing, but that's bad news for skiing: the snow cover was never that thick. A day of melting snow, even if it is a gradual melt, will probably put an end to our daily run along the county park trails.

On the other hand, after all those cold days, 34F outside ( 1C) feels mighty warm! I can dash out with minimal winter clothing. This is what March feels like!

Breakfast is late because Ed sleeps late.

 

Toward the end of the morning hours, the kids arrive with their mom.

We want to bake cookies. True, we dont need more cookies -- our chocolate covered ginger collection is copious. But the kids rarely bake with me these days and so I pick out a few recipes and allow Snowdrop to select the cookie of her choice out of these contenders. I've stocked the pantry with needed ingredients and immediately after lunch we get started.

I am surprised that both kids stick with it. Each had an interest in cooking with me way back when, but I thought it had waned a bit. Well, it's back!

And each one is a good participant! They're careful with machinery and with pouring. I get none of the usual spills and mishaps that come with young hands in the kitchen.

 

We stick the cookies (S shaped, because S stands for Snowdrop and Sparrow and Santa) in the oven, leave their mommy in charge of keeping an eye on the baking, and go outside to play.

 

Yes, Sparrow wants to join us.

But not for long. His cautious nature makes him hesitant and he considers a snow tumble to be the ultimate degradation. Within a few minutes, he is back inside, while Snowdrop continues to chase me around with clumps of snow.

 I have no trouble filling my Fitbit step allotment for this day.

Cookies are ready! We wanted to dip them in chocolate, but there's no time. Maybe tomorrow.

In the late afternoon, Ed and I take our chances and head out with our skis for the county park. 

Yes, there's just enough snow to do a good run. No photos. I give myself a break from carrying the camera. Besides, we simply repeated yesterday's run, at exactly the same time of day. You can glance back to what I posted then.

One last tiny detail: I picked up our Community Sponsored Agriculture box of veggies for one last time tonight. What do we get in December? Radishes, sunchoke, horseradish whips. Tetsukaboto squash, red cabbage, garlic, onions. Kohlrabi, sweet potato, orange carrots.

I remember when I picked up the first CSA box of the year, back in April. The pandemic was in its infant stage. There followed all those boxes of veggies during three seasons of shopping only from home. Thank you Harmony Valley farmers! You kept us stocked through tough times. We are so very grateful.

With love...

Friday - 280th

When people ask you -- which do you want first, the good news or bad news, what do you say? I would bet nice sums of money that most want the bad first. You really appreciate the gift of good news after you've been hit with the bad.

We, of course, are still processing some family bad news from yesterday, so we should be home free now, right? Onto the good? Wrong! This is 2020: never underestimate the power of this year to throw darts at those who dare to live with a smile on their face! So perhaps predictably (and to be honest, I expected this), I got a call early this morning that my mom has Covid. She has been with flu like symptoms for over a week now and each day that she described how she was feeling had me convinced that she had not escaped the virus in her assisted living facility. (One of the aides was diagnosed with it just last week.)

And now on to what we think is good news: her symptoms would indicate that most likely she has been infected for well over a week. She has not shown signs of growing worse or going over a cliff. The nurse who was with her today said she'll probably be done with the virus by Christmas. She has no respiratory issues (just other issues) and is going about her business in much the same way that she did last week or the week before.

Picking up on these more upbeat threads, I will say that our day, too, was, despite the tumult, much like the days of last week and the week before. 

Breakfast, that never changing morning routine...

Followed by the arrival of the kids. 

Yesterday had been tough for Snowdrop as she suffered the loss of her grandpa, but today she rallied. In the farmhouse, she often puts aside many of the worries that can hover over a little girl's life. It surely is an escape place. A comfy dish of mac and cheese and a warm mug of apple cider. (She actually consumes neither, but you know what I mean.) Sparrow, of course, is too young to be made sad by events that happen outside of his field of vision and today he follows her lead in rather rowdy play...

(Stickers, from her teacher, now on the farmhouse play room wall...)

I let them get away with it, though only for a short while. Books calm them down and eventually, they settle into favorites. Sparrow digs out the magnet girls...

... and reaches for the box of rubber puzzles. He does these methodically, precisely. It's as good as soothing music for him.

Snowdrop? She (like all kids who play here, at the farmhouse) never tires of bringing out the toy foods and cakes and macarons.

 

School is good: Snowdrop learns to cut out snowflakes ..

And outside play is finest of all.

Well, for Snowdrop more than for Sparrow. The little guy claims to like snow play, but I think he's putting up a brave front.

Whereas the girl could keep on playing forever in her "magic meadow of snow."

 

Toward dusk, Ed and I head out to ski yet again in our local park. I need the movement (I only missed one day in my 10 000 step goal since the beginning of October, so I continue to aim high each day!), but even more so, I need the forest bath. And the beautiful expanse of prairie that makes the mush in your head dissolve into a sea of quiet.

Thursday - 279th

So many lovely moments! Perhaps not in the predictable places. Morning walk was okay, but I held a can of rotted cat food in my hand so I missed my moment of meditation. Less like ahhhhhh and more like yuk. 

A message then from my friend who was in the hospital, undergoing surgery. It went well! Yes!

And breakfast is sweet, though we have a visitor who grabs Ed's attention.

Then the kids come. Their arrival is always so terrific that I make sure I can be outside to greet them.

Inside, we are preparing for something that I cannot mention because it's a wee surprise for parental types. Suffice it to say that Snowdrop excitedly brought from home bits an pieces of an outfit she wants to use as a costume. Good for her! Making do with what's available. (Checking it out in the mirror upstairs.)

We practice.

Well, just Snowdrop. Sparrow balks. He only wants to practice something that would have him "dress up" in the only way he knows how: with a dress. I try to coax him out of it, but he dug in his little heels.

Snowdrop then begs for a reread of one of her favorite books. I agree, so long as Sparrow is engaged in independent play. And the little guy more than cooperates and we are able to finish the whole book. We do, of course, pause for remote kindergarten.

What a difference a day makes: Snowdrop has an interesting combo of kids in her "playgroup" and I could see she is, for once, engaged and happy.

(Sparrow tries out the school desk, at other times used as our wee coffee table...)

I have the kids back home by 2, because the teacher is doing something sweet this afternoon -- visiting each child in her or his home. To wave from behind a window or a door. To exchange greetings. Real contact. A real treat.

 I hurry home to Ed and propose skiing. Sixth day in a row, on a modest base of snow -- not bad. 

Sunset...

This is when I get the message that there has been an unexpected death in the family. A father to my son in law, a grandpa to the kids. Covid did not kill him, but dying at the time of Covid is especially tough on those who are left behind. I know Grandma T is a loyal Ocean reader. Let me just end with a warm hug.

Do know that we are all with you tonight.

With love.

Wednesday - 278th

I know that for a long time I will associate Wednesdays with no school days. Like French children only different! (Until very recently, schools in France used to be closed Wednesdays.)

All the sunshine streaks come early today. I get them for my morning walk, then they disappear.

And speaking of disappearance, where is Ed? He sleeps through breakfast and I don't have the heart to wake him.

He awakes (to a degree) just as the kids show up.  

So, no school, all play! They offer no objection.

But as the sun disappears, so does the motivation to play outside. And I'm okay with that! I'm still living down pulling a sled load of trouble (she is 40 pounds, he is 30...) and, in the alternative, holding a boy whose snow pants are as slippery as the skin of an eel. 

We do art instead. That's always fun and requires nothing more than taping together pages of the next Super Pig book. By Snowdrop. Sparrow sticks with drawing monsters. Eating spaghetti, he tells me. I can see it! A smiling monster!

Lunch, with Ed. Because there's an extra pizza slice.

And eventually they go home and I return just in time to squeeze in a loop of cross country skiing in our county forest. This time with Ed.

[Someone noted that I should be cautious skiing alone. Sure, though I cannot emphasize how tame these trails are and how many decades of skiing I have behind me. Though I don't much care for skiing after sunset. That wont happen again.]

On the way home, we pass a small herd of deer. Not unusual for around here. Deer visit the farmette every night. Still, when you see them against a snow covered field, they take your breath away. 

Your eyes probably aren't drawn to the gray skies, but up there above them (can you see him?), a powered paraglider is doing his rather regular evening journey. We spot him almost as often as we see deer around here. But the animals are spooked by the noise of the motor and come running toward us. Yes, it's a beautiful gallop...

... but it's sad, too. They were disturbed and now they're coming closer to the road.

 

 

This is so dangerous for them! And of course, for drivers too. In Wisconsin, a car hits a deer several times each day of the year and our county has more road accidents involving deer than any other (it has the wrong combination of heavier traffic with a significant deer population). Indeed, you want to watch a hawk tear up the flesh of a deer? Just walk a quarter of a mile up our road. On full display.  So I slow down now, much to the dismay of a pickup truck behind me. Honk away, buddy! It's dusk. I'm not speeding ahead!

Evening. Time to cook up those summer tomatoes and open up some good kidney beans and black beans. Yep, chili night! So appropriate for this cold December night. Ed says -- a real after-ski supper. Yes it is.

Tuesday - 277th

Change can be nice and in these days where Ed and I are isolating at home, even small changes can seem interesting. So today counts as, well, interesting and therefore good!

Winter is really digging in. I wake up to 14F (-10C) and quite frankly, it's not going to get much warmer than that today. But we're used to it by now. And we are lucky to have a lovely snow cover -- there's nothing bleak about the landscape.

Breakfast, cozy once again.

And immediately after, Ed and I go skiing. This is the big flip: in our period of isolation, when the kids are here, they almost always arrive early in the morning. But today it's all moved about. Snowdrop is coming a little later (while her brother naps at home), which means that if Ed and I are to ski, we must ski now!

I feel like I was the last person yesterday on the trail of our county park and perhaps the first out on the trail today. But that's just fine -- it's a reasonably good snow cover and the ski trail is a favorite of ours.

And only a five minute drive from the farmette. Talk about lucky!

Shortly after, the little girl comes and we have before us an afternoon of play. First on the agenda? Go outside!

And can I really turn down those pleading eyes when they ask once again for a sled spin around farmette lands? I cannot.

(Added fun: spraying Gaga with snow...)

 

(Snow pants are magical: they let you lie down in snow to no ill effect...)

And eventually, quiet play inside.

 

Evening. A bit emotional actually and that, too, is different. Sad for the losses endured this year, but also so proud of scientists who developed the exit out of this mess. If you didn't cry watching those trucks roll out with the first vaccines, then you're made of stronger stuff than I am!

Yes, a good day.