Wednesday - 264th

Morning walk thoughts:

I have the sense that we came around full circle from our starting point back in March, when Ed and I announced that we were isolating and the young family assessed their options and decided to join us in an isolation bubble. Because as of this evening, we are in that bubble with them once again. For the next five weeks.

Except it's not the same, because all this time has passed, all these months of such utter caution on my part, on Ed's part, of needing to mask up and stay distant and outside with the kids, months where I couldn't enter their house, and in the meantime one season morphed into the next and now we are in December and the holidays are upon us. In other words we are back where we were, even though we're not at all where we once were. And it feels very strange to jump from a yes world with the kids to a no, no, keep your distance!, and now back to that yes world once more.

Then there are the cats: six of them now here, at the farmette. All sibs and half sibs, all more or less getting along, all eating together in the sheep shed, so that I don't have to worry about feeding one but not the other, or about having the cheepers go after their food (which has a lot of ground chicken in it so ugh! Not good for cheeper snacking!).

Except that this morning, I see someone new loitering by the writers shed. As if waiting. White with big black patches, matching none of the litter here. Quite beautiful actually. Silent. Watchful. I want to give her some food, but to do so, I must distract the other cats and also the cheepers and -- wait a minute, wasn't I in this place already once? With two little kittens who tried so hard to stay here even as the rest of the cats chased them to high heaven until I had to isolate the kittens to keep them safe and fed? Please, let this not be a rerun of that dynamic! Cats do come and go and you always wonder -- where from? where to? How kind will fate be to them?

Breakfast. With sunshine.

Little tree in the corner, now decorated.

 

A little later: 

The passage of time. Never is it more evident than on the day you pull up to the Christmas tree store and ask for the fattest tree on the planet because you want the kids and grandkids to be happy, and so you really want a fat balsam or fraser, with branches spilling out to the other side of the room!

Except that this year, I do a curbside pick up, which means that I don't actually go into the tree lot but stand to the side while the young store staff members hunt around for fat trees. Finally satisfied, I let them tie it to the roof of the car and I drive over to my daughter's house and they all take it inside.

And in the late afternoon:

I return to my daughter's house and here we are, all bubbled up again, safe, without masks, without worry. Well, part of me will always wistfully look south toward Chicago, where my younger girl lives. Still distant for a few more months, still with masks, outside, etc etc.

 

The plan for tonight is that we trim that fat tree. And we do!

(how fat is it?)

 

And yes, Snowdrop is totally set on appearing in her same-old leisurewear option, nothing else will do (can't I wear my most special shirt on this special day??), but she graciously agrees to wear it underneath her lovely matching-with-brother sweater dress. Sparrow, in the meantime, looks like your Christmas poster child in his sweet holiday pullover.

 

I do try for a classic photo that would document this Christmas, at this moment, for these two kids, but you know how it is: first one child looks great while the other moves...

Then the other looks joyous while the first one wiggles...

 

Still, there's a lot of love and good will in those two...

 

Pretty soon to be these three. Did I tell you that my older girl is pregnant? An end of May baby. Smart wee one: hiding at a time where the world is rough!

I stay for dinner. Not that I'm hungry: tree trimming came with an abundance of delicious snacks.

 

So strange to have had to be close, then far, and now close again. (For a while anyway.)

I'll take that strangeness, oh so gratefully. With precious hugs that have been withheld from so many of us even as we all need them. A lot.

Tuesday - 263rd

December! How cool is that! In fact, I'll take that literally: it's very cool. We wake up to 18F (-8C) outside. Crunchy earth, frozen waters.

But so very sunny. Isn't it true that many things can be tough or discouraging, but you have one glorious big ticket item -- like sunshine -- and your whole mood is given such boost.

We eat in the sun room. Ed, I'm ready.

 

I know that I said I'd be rejoining the bubble with the young family in December, but that doesn't happen until tomorrow evening. We're following the 14 day isolation requirement (plus testing) literally. To the hour. So tomorrow, not today. [As we approach their 14th day, there is rumor that the CDC guidelines are changing as we speak. A shorter period may be sufficient. But the details are sketchy and we are close to our 14 day goal anyway.]

I do have a sense of urgency today. If there's stuff that needs to be done, this is the day to finish it up before I get very busy again. So, one final run through online shopping. And yes, I'm satisfied that all the orders went out and if I'm lucky, all deliveries will be made before Christmas. Maybe. Things have been iffy lately, but I surely am sympathetic to those who have to play the elves and get our stuff delivered so very rapidly. We just have to sit tight. They do all the tough work. I am grateful.

 

Once more I coax Ed to do something active with me in the afternoon.

 

It's not that cold! -- I proclaim. Indeed, it's a couple of degrees above freezing.

You want to play tennis?
Like, outside? On the court?

Why not?
Because it's a couple of degrees above freezing!

We try it. At our local deserted, forested tennis courts.

At first I am so tightly wound up, possibly from the cold, the winter clothes, the absurdity of our game, or possibly because we haven't played since summer, that I can hardly return anything. But in time, the tension leaves the elbow, the shoulder, the leg, the other leg and disappears somewhere in those tall pines behind us. I can't say I would want to do this every day, but today, a wintry game of tennis felt just right.

I return in time for a Zoom call with my now southern (New Mexico and Florida) friends.

 

As I listen to them recount their holiday weekend, I'm thinking -- there is something remarkable about being able to eat at least some of your meals outside in December. I have pangs of wistfulness when I listen to their description of the weather there. But only for a few minutes. I have this soy candle with an amazing aroma of apple cider burning right now, and another one that promises to bring a faint whiff of pine boughs right into the farmhouse living space. Neither would have the pleasurable impact had we warm weather in December. The Danish or Norwegian hygge (cozy comfort) only makes sense because it's so damn cold in both places starting right about now.

It's soup weather, wouldn't you say? Time to take out the yellow pot and stir up the veggies and beans and spices in a chicken broth. Winter food. Just right for December.

Late, very late, a big box arrives with any number of holiday odds and ends, including the tree lights. I can end the first day of December with the tree.  And yes, it does make the walls glow with purple light. Utterly fantastic.

 

 

 

Monday - 262nd

Today was much like yesterday, only colder and the walk was better.

I'm not talking about the morning famette walk -- that early lap around the backfields of this property, to the rear of the barn and home again.

True, I love these first minutes of outdoor time. I get a feel for the weather, I can smell the dry crustiness or the damp slushiness of the earth. The day is fresh and young and I'm ready for it. But I get how this isn't particularly exciting to you: oh, another sprint around the familiar. Yawn. 

And it's nearly always followed by again a very familiar breakfast. Today, in the sun room, even though there is no sun.

But these steady and stable routines are not what turned the day into a more adventurous and pretty one for us. As I said, the walk, the big walk, the hike was (in stark contrast to yesterday's stroll) glorious.

Once again, we really hesitated about going out. The temperature never passed the freezing point. For the last day of November, that's not totally strange, but it is on the colder side of cold. Still, a morning of shopping (online once more) needs an afternoon of rejuvenation. I call Bruce Company -- a place that always has abundant Christmas trees, all freshly cut in Wisconsin -- and purchase a small tree for curbside pickup. And I suggest to Ed that as long as we're driving 15 minutes to Bruce's, mightn't we drive another 15 and hit the trails at Indian Lake County Park? 

It's a beautiful park with nearly perfect trails, but the drive to get to it, plus its weekend popularity push it off our usual list of favorites. But on a cold Monday, late afternoon no less, it's nearly empty. And the clouds part just enough and the colors are sublime. Want to walk with us?

On the way home, we stop to pick up the tree. So pretty, if a bit unusual in shape! No decorations yet. I'm waiting for the little lights to arrive in a day or two. Still, it definitely feels grander doing life's chores and tasks with a tree in the corner, bringing that bit of the outdoor world straight into the farmhouse living space.

Sunday - 261st

Do you remember the commercial that implored you to let your fingers do the walking (through the Yellow Pages)? Funny how, sixty years later, we've come around to just that: finger shopping. I should be pleased. I so dislike malls and department stores and long check out lines. (I do like small shops, but they are a rare breed, unless you live in the city or in a place rich with small shop tradition.) Nonetheless, finger shopping, aka online buying can be numbing. Today is proof of that.

It's not that I wasn't excited to start in on heavy duty holiday gift purchasing. After the morning walk, of course.

 

And after breakfast -- which I moved to the sun room because of... the sun!

But you just should not do long stretches of it. Too much clicking and digital page turning will drive you nuts. Or, near nuts.

In the afternoon, Ed pulls me out of my screen stupor and suggests we take a walk:  a path that sort of kind is okay. Couldn't be more than a mile from where we live. One might even call it a "river walk."

But it doesn't really go anywhere. It deteriorates into a muddy wetland. In the winter, we sometimes ski here and even then, you feel you're not exactly on solid ground. And did I mention the winds? They are ferocious!

Still, the walk clears the head. And we do get to wave good bye to the sandhill cranes who are ready to make their journey south.

Evening. I do a dinner delivery. Hi guys!

And home again. Same Sunday dinner. Same ingredients! That's what they want, that's what I cook. For them, for us. There may be great uncertainty in our lives right now, but my kids know this: if there's a dinner food they crave, I'll cook it for them.

Saturday - 260th

It is still Thanksgiving weekend and we are still making Thanksgiving connections. Today, for example, I drove to Illinois for an outdoor, distanced and masked (except when eating and then super-distanced) meetup with my younger girl, her husband, and of course Primrose.

And so my morning is rushed. Hurry up, animals! Eat! Hey Ed, you'll need to de-ice their water dish, I didn't have time to do it!

 

Breakfast... (thanks for coming down, I know you're half asleep still)

And I'm off. 

We chose the same park for our time together -- Raven Glen Forest Preserve -- because it's convenient, uncrowded, and with wide paths. And don't forget the lake to throw sticks in! Again, we are so very lucky to have radiant sunshine and relatively mild temperatures all day.

It feels good to be in this now familiar space with the three of them.

(Arrival!)

 

(Ready for an adventure)

 

 (But first a snack)

The worry evaporates, the pleasure of being together sets in.

And of course, it's grand to watch Primrose grow in confidence and maturity. (Again, I am grateful for a Zoom lens...)

(Classen treats!)

 

(A final look...)

I'm the first to complain about longer car rides (anything over 30 minutes feels long to me), but for this particular meetup, the ride is just fine. The radio is on (I'm so old fashioned), my thoughts fly to my kids and their families. And of course, the sun is out and the world looks lovely, even in November.

On the return trip, I stop at a farm that is selling Christmas trees. I always get a small tree from my Madison grocery store, but they are refusing to do curbside pickup or delivery of their trees and wreaths, so I'm happy to pick one up now, in this southern corner of Wisconsin.

 

But as I get out of the car and one of the young men approaches me to help with the selection, I can't help but feel disappointed that he is not wearing a mask. Neither are his siblings (they look like their sibs). I say no thanks and get back in the car. I want a tree I can feel happy about, from a business that cares about the safety of its shoppers. The tree purchase will have to wait until I can get to the nursery in town that does indeed do curbside pickup.

I get home in mid-afternoon. Ed has been knocking around the farmhouse. That wont do! It's a beautiful day, we need to walk! It's a challenge to find an empty space on this weekend, without hunters shooting at you, but we do find peace (and safety!) along a Nature Conservancy trail.

 

Such a beautiful day! And once again, there's a no fuss dinner (turkey leftovers!) waiting for us this evening. Thanksgiving just keeps on giving!

Friday - 259th

And what does the day after Thanksgiving look like? The clean up continues. Pots, pans, dishes are stacked in the cupboards. Recipes are returned to the Thanksgiving folder and the whole pack is shoved back on the shelf. Thoughts of turkey remain, but they're without ambition (leftovers? we can always do sandwiches) and with some relief (phew! I don't need to roast a turkey for a whole year!) and a bit of pity (the poor French... their turkey roasting is still before them, since the French these days often go with turkey for their Christmas meal). Oh, I do like turkey preparation, but it takes so long to get the bird ready and it requires a meticulous coordination to have it be done just as everything else is set to go! Ah well. Thanksgiving traditions are about cooking. Perfecting that turkey is a lifelong project. I surely must have roasted some forty or more birds in my life. One more behind me! And now I face Christmas.

Only not today. After my morning walk...

 

And breakfast... Lackadaisical...

And tidying, Ed and I take a better walk -- one in our local park. The sun is out and we are at the edge of a two day warmup. A few deep breaths on this very pretty day!

Oh, but that felt good. Can face the world again. The clothes dryer that stopped working, the credit card company that wont release my $34.11 in rewards because they can't resolve the fraud claim that has been without movement for four weeks, the knocked up vacuum cleaner, the stove top in need of a scrub. All silly nothings. 

And of course, there is no dinner to cook. Sure, I tossed a salad. Otherwise, today's plates are the same as yesterday's plates. Same colors, same tastes. The beauty of Thanksgiving is that it has this spillover effect. In many ways, it just stays with you for a long, long time.

Thanksgiving Day

So different, so much the same! But that's true always, no? Perhaps this year poses for most of us the greatest hurdles toward being in each others embrace, but then, there have always been years with great stress. No one goes through life without some amount of drama or disappointment  and Thanksgiving can't always heal pain and promise us unbounded joy and unity. And maybe this year, when we appreciate the togetherness we cannot have, we are, in fact, more likely to love deeply, at a distance, to feel grateful for the time that we had and that will come again. There is happiness in gratitude. True happiness. And so yes, I am wishing you all a happy Thanksgiving holiday.

A real November day: cold, but not freezing. Damp, but not super wet. I walk with the gang to the animal feeding stations. Let me honor the oldest of them all -- Java. Such a mother hen. She doesn't run like the rest, she hops and gallops. Like a chicken on a pogo stick!

 

Let me honor, too, the farmhouse that gives us so much comfort and joy...

And now it's breakfast. Special today. Apple cake from the bakery. (I snipped some sweet pea shoots and mint sprigs from the yard. These plants seem not to care that we are past the growing season!)

And now it's time to roll up the sleeves and hit the kitchen. In trying to stay within the bounds of sanity, I cut out one of the dishes. [I heard on NPR that on average, people are gathering in wee groups but spending way more on Thanksgiving food this year. Odd how we try to fill a void with overabundance.]

Do you mind if I skip baking the corn muffins? -- I ask Ed.

Gorgeous, do you want to skip the turkey? That's okay too!  Yep, he always makes me laugh. 

I start with the cranberries. Have to use frozen ones this year, but believe me, no one will notice. (With apples and spices. Recipe from one of my favorite (occasional) bloggers, the ever generous and talented Catherine at Ben and Birdy.)

 

Somewhere in the background I have the Macy's parade. When Santa comes, I'm to hop over to my daughter's house with this pie. (Purchased, not baked by me.)

 

(Hey, Mrs. Claus is in a mask. Perhaps my grandkids will feel common fellowship with her, having had to mask up routinely to keep others safe.)

Outside, distanced. I back far away so that I can have them take off their masks for this photo...

Home again. This is where I have a window of no kitchen work. Too early to work with the turkey. Ed and I are about to take a walk, when the FB Messenger jimgles. It's Primrose, with parents!

And that's not all -- we connect to my Madison daughter and her brood. Hey Ed, look, we're all together!

Utterly delightful!!! Happy Thanksgiving indeed!

 

And now Ed and I do take a walk. We climb up the construction hills to the east of us, just to check things out. 

(A view of the farmette: bare trees reveal the outlines of the farmhouse, the silo, the sheds and the barn)

It's muddy. I mean, really muddy. We retreat and stick to the sidewalks of the New Development, pausing every time we come across a puddle to work on cleaning our shoes. I'd say this ranked as a very "interesting" stroll. 

And now kitchen work intensifies. Bird is prepped and goes in. I make the turkey stock and get the potatoes -- both sweet and yukons -- ready for their scalloped bake. And brussle sprouts. And mushrooms for the gravy. That's the Thanksgiving roll: everything starts slowly and then intensifies as the dinner hour approaches.

Finally. The turkeys are done!

For the Madison young family -- herbed. For the Chicago bunch -- spatchcocked  and brined. For Ed and me -- herbed as well. Three turkeys. Shared in the classic 2020 way: on screens!

 

Ed and I sit down to our dinner. Next to each other, as we like to do when we go out to eat.

Plates of food, with the colors of a Thanksgiving meal. Repeated in more households that I can imagine.

After the meal there are always the dishes. Lots and lots of dishes. As I go through the steps of cleaning up, I think about those who had a tougher year. So many people to worry about, to wish well in these most difficult times. So many stressed families. Maybe this day, with its turkeys and cranberries and yams, was just a little more normal. Maybe people could take the time to smile, to exhale. Maybe even to feel happy.

With love...