Christmas Day: family gathering

Well, we're not the only ones with relatives on the road today, traveling to spend time together over a meal. Or two. Or three. Half of America appears to be on one highway or another. We are lucky in Wisconsin: the day is calm, the roads are clear.

For Ed and myself, the farmette, though removed from the urban and suburban landscape, is nonetheless very close to my older girl's home, where our Christmas celebrations will take place.

We wake up without rush and without the need to attend to anything at all. Oh, I have last minute presents to wrap (those Gran Speciale parmiggiano cheeses I lugged home from Parma? They need to stay cool until the last minute). And I pack numerous shopping bags with foods and utensils needed for tonight's meal. (I've cooked at the homes of family members before -- it's always tricky: you never know what they have or do not have). But we take it easy.

And it's not until 10:30 that I finally drench the brioche in this week's farmette egg mixture and throw it on the griddle for our holiday breakfast of French toast. In France it would be called pain perdu -- "lost bread" -- often stale, often otherwise useless. They fry it, then sprinkle it with sugar and summer berries. We, like most Americans, love to dip it in maple syrup. (Actually, this egg soaked bread is popular in many countries. But I had never tasted it in Poland, where breakfast is never sweet. So to me, it feels quintessentially American.)






Finally, just afternoon, we all gather at my daughter's house. Few words are needed to describe this most beautiful time.


Lunch:






With mommy and aunt:






Great boxes!






With her grandpa:






Loving each toy:






With grandma:






Aunt and uncle:






Zucchini:






Young parents:






Looking at cookbooks:






Resting on her dad's lap:






An aunt's hug:






Grandpa Ed shows up:






A solo moment with a book:






Dinner:






Yule log:






Reading a childhood favorite  (Lucy and Tom):






And to all a good night!

Christams Eve, farmette style

The winds whipped up the clouds, the mists, the warm air and sent them on their way.

We wake to a crisp, dry day and the promise of a clearing sky.





Good morning cheepers. Welcome to Christmas Eve day. I don't really know how old you are and how many such days you've clocked in already, but I hope this one gives you what you like -- just a touch of sunshine and a calm world around you.






We eat breakfast in the sun room. I review the meals and gatherings scheduled for the next three days. Ed's head may be spinning from so much time with family, over food, with the noise and clatter that comes with it, but in the end, he is always with us and not unhappy to fill his plate and watch the revelry. The grandpa who has forgotten that he's supposed to be grumpy during the holidays.





I wave him off to give blood and go to the basement to do a load of laundry.

And of course, this is the day our septic system decides to implode.

We have a flooded basement.

Come back, Ed!
But, but I have to give blood...

You have to laugh. I've lived here nearly four years and the first time we had a septic clog was on the day before Thanksgiving. My little girl points out that our septic system has a sense of occasion. Indeed! It's as if we need a reminder at the time of holidays and parties and festivities that the practicalities of life matter. That you cannot take for granted all that is handed to you each day.

Needless to say, finding someone to push through the willow roots that most likely have invaded the pipes yet again on Christmas Eve is a challenge.

But I, too, run away from the disaster. I have Snowdrop to visit this afternoon!

I'm there in time to feed her lunch. Look, little girl -- pear slices and strawberries! The ones you picked at the market!






But she is curious about all the activity around the house. Dad downstairs rustling and pounding, mom banging pots in the kitchen... what's going on there?






Still, distracting her isn't too hard. We have our games! Playing with the camera's self timer, for example.

 




Let's do a double selfie! (Is there a name for that?)






But when her mom starts reaching for ingredients in the pantry, Snowdrop scoots like a torpedo to the kitchen.






Those are hot pepper flakes, Snowdrop.
(Seems like a good rattle to me...)
Little one, where is your other shoe?
(I took it off of course.)
Of course.





While Virgil the cat looks on.






I lure her to her favorite books...






And that's just grand for a handful of minutes. But then she is back by the tree, reaching for an ornament, taking off tags so that she can "study them" with care, then toss them aside...






Finally the afternoon draws to a close. Before leaving I take a photo of the young family's first Christmas Eve as a threesome...






And then I drive home, where Ed (thank goodness) has found his bud with the gizmo that unplugs septic systems.

All is calm.

Dinner? Last year Ed and I went out to a very mediocre Chinese restaurant on Christmas Eve. That was the New York in him speaking. This year we opt for takeout food from our favorite Thai place.

If you celebrate Christmas, or even if you merely have kind feelings toward holidays and celebrations, then please accept my heartfelt wishes for a Merry Christmas. With love.

Wednesday before Christmas

Being a frequent traveler, I know how hard it is to get to a place in a timely way when the weather does not cooperate. I have real compassion for people who want so much to have a hassle free journey this holiday season. The weather is not cooperating.

Yes, others have it worse than what we have here. Snowstorms, downpours, heavy fogs -- those are tougher to navigate than our misty skies and our occasional heavy rains. Still, it is a very strange world out there this 23rd of December.

On the upside, it is so pleasantly warm!

I let the cheepers out, giving them some leftover corn as a special treat. Poor Scotch, our molting hen -- she is definitely not at her loveliest!






A look toward the farmhouse on this misty morning...






Ed and I have breakfast in the front room, but it could be any room, because honestly, the views everywhere are toward a gray and brown landscape.






And now I have my big grocery shopping to do and I have two willing helpers -- my daughter and granddaughter -- ready to tag along! This little girl is fresh from her morning bath, delighted to be in the thick of holiday adventures.






Off we go, on what has to be the busiest grocery shopping day of the month, perhaps the year. And the rains are now coming down hard, but we run for cover and who could mind anyway, since it really is so pleasantly warm!

Alright, let's work through the grocery list. Strawberries? Sure, I'll take one of those.






There are free samples galore and the little girl tastes many, many types of cheeses. Good! Let her palate develop!






(Ah, how well I know that stamp of parmiggiano authenticity! At least 24 months... the clerk tells me. I nod my head with approval.)






Snowdrop has an eye out toward other children and toward smiling people in general and she makes more than one friend along the way. Plus, she finds a penguin...






And her mom finds a Santa hat.





It is a happy shopping expedition!


The afternoon. Again I am with Snowdrop. Such concentrated play!






(And yes, that push to discover comes with its twists and bumps. I'd say the nose scab is healing quickly, no?)





The winds are howling tonight. The temperature has climbed into the mid fifties. The rain comes and goes. I'm sure many will remember this year's Christmas as the time when winter took a long hard pause. Me, I'll remember it as the time of my little ones -- with the addition of the littlest of them all.

Merry holidays indeed!

Tuesday before Christmas

In the middle of the night I worried about one of my pasta recipes -- the one that includes pumpkin. I had the sense that something was missing from my recollection (and notes) of it. I reached for my computer. I needed to sort this stuff out or I would not be able to drift back to sleep. Ed grunted, but with understanding. We are used to middle of the night wake-ups.

Mostarda! Yes, I'd forgotten about mostarda.

Do you know about this stuff? It's not really Italian mustard -- it's a chutney of sorts, though it does have mustard grain in it. And fruits. It's crucial to an authentic tortelli con zucca which figures prominently in one of the several meals I'll be cooking this weekend.

Amazon, help!

Nope. Not available until next week.

And then I come across a recipe on the internet for this fantastic zucca (pumpkin) dish (so beloved in both Mantova and Parma) -- and this recipe prints out to be some fifteen pages long and the author says that it is like a rabbit hole and I surely know what she means. You need amaretti (little Italian cookies). I myself remembered to pick up some of those on the other side of the ocean, but in fact, you can buy them here too, or you can make your own.

And the mostarda -- if you can't find it in your local Italian store, I'm told I can make it myself (never mind the long ingredient list). Now, the recipe does call for some candied fruits that aren't readily available. No problem! I can make those too! And so I am now making a mountain of things just so I'd be able to throw them together for the stuffing of a pasta.

This is one reason I love this holiday so much -- you worry about such silliness. Ah, may a day be this light and crispy (like an amaretti!) always!


We eat breakfast at the kitchen table, with cook books now adorning the empty spaces.






And then I finally figure out what I'm cooking and when, and I make the proper lists and check them twice.

Remembering the advice of a wise Ocean reader, I then finish my wrapping duties while standing upright. A senior way of dealing with the twisting and bending that big boxes require.

Done.

In the afternoon, I'm at Snowdrop's home. She's napping still, but I'm anxious to see her.






We play, yes of course.






And I'm not one to doubt that the little one loves me. We spend a boatload of hours together. But look at her face when mommy enters the room!






Later in the afternoon, my older girl and I take Snowdrop to the mall. Perhaps you'll think -- that's an odd little outing, but the day is gray and our weather is generally uninteresting right now and we thought the holiday buzz might be something she'll enjoy. And she does. (We put her in the driver's seat again. She's a natural!)






Her mom is looking to pick up gift wish cards at the giving tree. Snowdrop is concentrating on driving the car.






When she tires of driving, she enjoys being the passenger.






We don't really have a goal, nor do we have a shopping agenda. But we're curious how she'll regard the Santa. There's just a short line. One babe after the next greets the old guy with wails. Snowdrop? Here's the photo taken by the "Santa's helper."






We think maybe it's that she is very used to grandpa Ed's white beard. Too, she is just such a social girl. And finally, of all things, this particular Santa appears to have a toy penguin with which to entertain the kids.

It was a completely successful mall outing.






And in the evening, I bring Snowdrop back to the farmhouse while the parents attend to their social obligations.

She needs no reminders as to what's what. And of course, she has quite her special moments with the bearded guy at home!






They can be unstoppable...






She is too excited to nap. Well, I'm not one to be surprised. Wasn't I studying recipes for pumpkin tortelli in the middle of the night?

Snowdrop is, these days, a girl on the go. But then she hears the door open. Her parents are back!





See you tomorrow, little girl. I'm wishing us all a good night tonight! We need the rest for the days ahead.