Monday

Sunshine! At last, plenty of sunshine!

I'm up early.





Ed and I are off to a clinic for a medical one thing or another. For me. I've noticed something: when you get older, you either ignore quirky stuff taking place inside you (that would be Ed) or you wind up visiting a doc's office quite a number of times (that would be me) to make sure that your insides aren't completely unraveling.

As we pull into the parking lot of the clinic, I get a call from my mom who is feeling really, really not well. I'm two minutes late for my appointment, but this is no time to pay attention to such detail. Instead, I make sure she goes through with her call to the ER. Relieved that she is under a doctor's care, I turn to my own doc visit.

I come out of the clinic a bit woozy and in desperate need of food and coffee. We head for Paul's cafe where I down a whopping  avocado scrambler, which makes me feel superb!

And I tell myself this: I have got to move more and visit clinics less in 2020!  I love my health care providers (which is not the same as loving my health insurance!) but I would love them even more if I saw less of them. There isn't a doubt that my resolution for 2020 has to be about upping the activity levels and polishing up my inner calm.

I comment to Ed: you are never anxious!
Hmmm, I guess...
I  mean, I can't imagine you having an ounce of anxiety, whereas I can list for you ten things right now that are keeping me on the verge of worry!
That doesn't mean I will never be anxious...
Honestly, I just don't see this as a possibility for you...
Whatever you say, gorgeous.

I can never be like Ed. But in the second half of November alone, I've made great progress toward incorporating a calmer set of reactions to usual triggers of stress. I don't know about you, but for me, this will be the great project for the next decade: to continue along the path of calm.

In the afternoon, I pick up first Sparrow (you'll carry your sister's lunch box?)...






... then Snowdrop.





How easy it is to enchant these two! In my travels, I had picked up an old world Advent Calendar for Snowdrop and Sparrow. You'd think a little door with just a drawing behind it would not inspire a child. You'd be wrong. Snowdrop loves looking for those dated doors!

(Sparrow shows a passing interest, then returns to his world of dance...)











And today, Snowdrop is in for a real surprise: in the mail, another old fashioned Advent calendar makes an appearance. A gift from one of you. A million thanks!

The little one is just thrilled and spends many many minutes imagining a world that fits into the calendar set up.





(Sparrow returns to his books. We call them "the boring Sparrow favorites," but secretly, we love how much he loves these sweet little texts.)






In the late late evening, Ed and I sit back with our popcorn and odd movie selection.
So, it was a good day, wasn't it? -- he asks.
He's right, of course. So much could have gone haywire, but it did not. And the kids were fantastic and there was sunshine. Very very good, I agree.

Happy December!

Don't you think that this last month of the year, a month that, in our half of the planet, brings with it too many hours of darkness, as well as the official beginning of cold cold days and nights -- that it is, nonetheless a month of privilege? You may belong to a subset that doesn't like all the holiday trappings -- the parties, the glitter and shine, the food, the gifts, the fables, the music -- but trappings there are and they do give December a punchiness and sparkle that no other month commands. Call it commercial nonsense, view it as excess, be the humbug in the crowd. It doesn't matter. No one's listening. The rest of us are enchanted by the transformation: a month of coldness and darkness is suddenly beloved and appreciated. Amazing!

The weather here, in the upper Midwest, feels drizzly cold. A breath above freezing. Nothing to write home about. The kittens and Stop Sign have returned to the porch. They huddle on the heating pad, coming out every now and then to frolic. Well, the little ones frolic.






Stop Sign is getting old. She does a lot of resting.






Breakfast. I still record it here, on Ocean (how can I not!)...


 


... but I've put away the camera for this meal. Ed asks -- don't you want to take my picture?
Nope, no need.
Oh, come on!
Really. Not necessary to my story line.
Gorgeous, take a picture!






In the early afternoon, we work hard on motivating each other to go out for a walk. Neither of us finds this to be an attractive possibility. Wet snow flakes are coming down, melting at the touch of any surface. The landscape is muddy, offering shades of dark brown for your color palette. Still, we have to embrace this season! Staying inside all day long is not an option!

The trails in our local county park are... wet.






(Pond half frozen from the early weeks of November)





I am so glad to return to a warm and dry farmhouse!


In the evening, the young family comes for a spaghetti dinner.
 





(Sparrow makes the rounds: we're all sick of this book. He finds Ed, who never says no to a kid request.)






And so begins another month at the farmette. Happy December indeed!

Saturday after Thanksgiving

It is the last day of November. I can hardly believe it! Thirty days have September, April June and November. Thirty days at a dizzying speed in a month that typically drags.

This year, just a few hours into November, I got this uncomfortable feeling that the month would not let me just coast. It immediately posed challenges. Then, two weeks into the month,  I was stunned at how inconsequential events could catapult you and toss you into uncharted waters and raging seas. Three weeks into the month, I had to find my way home again. Four weeks into the month, the family gathered with love and gratitude, and the kids played, and the oven got crowded again with tins and sheets and pans. And I trimmed Ed's beard and he no longer looks like a sailor lost at sea. Or, in the alternative, Santa Claus.

In other words, the month started with a tremble, moved through an earthquake and finished with a lullaby.

And today, the Saturday after Thanksgiving, that lullaby grew into a full blown operatic masterpiece.

It was not a complicated day. The two young families gathered at the farmhouse for brunch. Big deal, right?

Well, it is a big deal. Our big holiday together is behind us. Today, it's just us being us, with each other. Me making a frittata (with spinach, tat soi, and clamshell, trumpet and pioppini mushrooms. And cheese, of course). And baking cinnamon rolls. And mini pancakes for the kids. Oh, and bacon, because it smells so good on a cold wet day.

It's my last day with Primrose and I watch her extra closely, to get my fill of her at this beautiful age.











She has a special spot in our hearts, though of course, they all do. Special spots, overlapping, as daughters and their daughters and son spend precious free minutes together.






(Sparrow is the family sous chef. We see him as the next competitor at Junior Master Chef. Well, except for the fact that he is a terribly fussy eater. Perhaps we don't rise to his standards of excellence...)






Brunch. Happy, happy brunch.






(Snowdrop discovers the penguins on her napkin. Snowdrop does love penguins...)






(Primrose, grateful that grandma remembered the mango and the degree of ripeness was just right...)






There's still a little time for play. The two toddlers find a common love: trains, with room for passengers.






Snowdrop has reconsidered many of the little kid toys ever since her brother rolled them out on the play mat, but putting in and taking out characters into things that move? That's just too yesterday. She chills on her mom's lap.






(Sparrow's dad loves baseball caps. It looks like the little guy will form attachments to them as well.)






(She has that "little kids and grandmas! what are you gonna do with them" expression...)






Time to put on your shoes, Primrose...
No!






That's me, happy to have had this magnificent set of hours with the whole brood here once more, at the table with two inserts stuck in to accommodate us all, and a beautiful table cloth that my friend Bee and I picked out in Paris...





Life is always a tad more complicated than you may want, so I should note, for the record, that November ends with a lullaby alright, but with an asterik. My mom hasn't been feeling well lately. The kids had a good visit with her and Ed and I spent the day trying to fix some of the technical challenges she is facing, but, we cannot fix the fact that she is not feeling well.

What was that? A lightening flash outside? Pounding rain? Oh, November! You really are hellbent on inserting bits of trouble this year, aren't you?!

Friday after Thanksgiving

I love the day after Thanksgiving! You're still with family, you have great leftovers for the week ahead, and you fashion your own traditions. Important ones, slowly transitioning you to the next holiday.

But first, there are cats and chickens to feed.






And farmhouse baby baths to give, and prebreakfast bowls of fruit to eat.  (Give her mango and she'll love you forever!)






And grandma's lap to visit.






We have this floating holiday tradition (it moves between holidays, depending on when all kids are in town): breakfast at Hubbard Avenue Diner.

There's a bit of a wait. That's a given.






Finally, at the table. Cousins into cousins.






(Sparrow keeps an eye on things...)






Here's another tradition and this one is always between Thanksgiving and Christmas: a visit to Clasen's bakery. The one with the giant gingerbread house.












... and with my favorite holiday cookies!











One more destination: to the Christmas tree store across the street.

 ("Pick an ornament, Primrose! No, not that one! No, pick something else! An owl? Yessss!")






The young family is looking for a small tree for the living room. We like this one!






What's not to love about this day?!











A pizza supper at Lucille's... (where the holiday lights are incredible!)






Best day of my life, says a little one afterwards. A spontaneous outburst, perhaps because everything felt so family driven and so very special!

I'll end with a photo of the two of us at the farmhouse. I know, I know, the old sailor could do with a beard trim. One of these days. Perhaps when my head isn't so filled with the deliciousness of family comings and goings.

Thanksgiving

It's about family. Friends. Far and near. People: it's about people. Some of you may have many at your Thanksgiving table. At the grocery store, I was waiting to buy one slice of ham. Just one. I thought it could add something to the green bean plate. A woman standing next to me said -- oh, I'm having thirty for dinner! That's probably too many, isn't it? There was a note of both defiance and triumph in her voice. As if more is better.

More is not better. (And thirty is a little over the top, but hey, who am I to judge...) No one is counting. Your Thanksgiving should be as big or little as you want it to be. But no one is counting.

Our farmhouse Thanksgiving day begins with kitchen work. None of it is taxing, none of it is rushed.

I make the cranberry cornmeal muffins that should have been done yesterday and, too, the cranberry dressing. Simple. With orange stuff.






The Madison young family comes in time for a late morning snack. Sort of a second breakfast (somewhere in there, I think there was a first breakfast).






There is the parade to watch. There are books. There's food. Lots of food.











("There's Santa Claus!")





For me, there is the lovely warm hum of kitchen work.

("lunchtime!")





And in the early afternoon, my younger daughter arrives with her family!






Primrose! You're getting to be such a grownup girl!






Back in the kitchen, my daughter lends a hand. As does Sparrow...






(Showing Snowdrop how to grate a nutmeg...)






I'm a little preoccupied with the coordination of the meal. The veggies (brussels sprouts, green beans, corn) have last minute components. The stuffing and potatoes have to bake in the same oven as the turkey. Temperatures have to be adjusted. And so I only give an occasional glance to the activity in the other room...

(the dancing)





Though I do pause to take a picture of the awesome threesome!






Finally. The turkey is ready. The dark meat took significantly longer to reach the desired degree of doneness, but I am able to to stall everything so that it would all come together more or less at the same time.

It's both exhilarating and a relief when the meal is finally placed on the table and everyone sits down.
This is, after all, the whole holiday, right there, at the table, with the people you love so much!






Dessert is easy! Pies. Not baked by me!





And there you have it: the most heartwarming holiday of the year. Everyone is an equal player. Everyone belongs. And I am so very grateful to have all of them there today.

So, maybe you were at a meal with 29 others. Or perhaps your Thanksgiving merely meant that you talked to a bunch of family members on Facetime. It's all good. Indeed, beautiful to the core.