Wednesday - 341st

I've heard that about half the people who receive the second COVID shot will have no reaction at all beyond a sore arm, and half will feel really sick for a day or two. I'd say Ed and I fulfilled that prediction well: half of us got sick, with joint aches, fatigue, and flu like symptoms to the max, while the other half coasted. I'll let you guess who fell into which category.

I know you're tired of me starting the day with a weather story ("still cold out there" "so many degrees below freezing!" "biting wind" etc.), but it has been shockingly cold for a shockingly long period of time and so I can't ignore it. I'll glance at the thermometer and reach for the heavy overcoat. It's so bulky and awkward that I had wanted to give it away long ago, but of course that would have been a mistake. When polar winds blow down on us day after day, a quilt of a coat, faux fur trim and all, is the ticket.

 

 

We eat breakfast in the south facing front room. I have finally tidied this kid space and now it actually looks pretty enough to host us in the morning. Of course, one afternoon of play will recreate the chaos that reigned here for several years, but for now, we are enjoying the feeling of space and order.

The day is much like yesterday -- cold but sunny. We should be out, taking in this free dose of vitamin D, but instead, we spend a good chunk of the day napping on the couches -- not unusual for Ed, very weird for me. 

By late afternoon, guilt sets in. We should go skiing. Yes we should. Now or never. Maybe not today? Yes today!

If napping while skiing were possible, I would have done it. Instead, we do our loop and come back, returning to our couches, picking up where we left off.

Evening. A simple supper of scrambled eggs and veggies. I eat it in the company of my sweet Chicago grandgirl!

Slowly, very slowly, we're warming up here in Wisconsin. I can tell, because it was not hard to chase the two most domesticated cats, Dance and Friendly (referred to by me as Obsequious) outside. 

(Friendly's favorite perch in the last few day?  Up by my favorite ceramic platters. Grrr.!)

When the temps plummeted, they shivered and balked and ran to the warmest belly of the farmhouse. Tonight, they sprinted out the door, in hot pursuit of something. (Not deer: they appear to coexist in great harmony with the deer that pass this way all winter long.)

 

 

If we've learned anything this past year it is to keep our eyes narrowly focused on each day. To resist the temptation to look ahead, to look forward only to be disappointed. But, despite the multitude of uncertainties out there, this I know for sure: we are heading toward spring. And that's such a grand thing!

Tuesday - 340th

If ever there was a day that reminded me of our senior status, this one would qualify! 

On most days, our age hardly makes a dent in our day's agenda. Oh, we aren't as speedy in our movements and there are plenty of bodily reminders of a more advanced age, but neither Ed nor I dwell on this aspect of our farmette life. It just isn't a topic of discussion or contemplation. There are finer things with which to fill your head.

But today is different.

First, there was the matter of the cat. Dance, our feral outdoor cat who likes to come in for loooong visits, refused to go back outside when Ed called it a day and came upstairs to bed. He claims he tried bribing, pushing, tricking and begging. It did not work. And so she was in for the night and of course, I was just waiting for her to chase our feet under the quilt (her favorite activity upstairs). This cannot be a new normal. I'm too old to change my sleeping habits! (There are the concerning practicalities as well. We do not have a litter box. She needs to be outside!)

I finally chased her down and out at dawn. But by then, it was time for me to get moving.

Gloriously sunny day! Oh, it's still cold, but we are only thirty degrees (F) below the freezing mark at wake up, and by afternoon, I know we'll be in the teens again (so around -8 or -9C). That's splendid!

I shovel the inch or two of new snow, I feed the animals, I check the car battery. All good. We have an early breakfast. Yeah, Dance is back inside again.

Now to the notable part of the day.

Late on Sunday we were able to schedule our second COVID vaccination. It was not easy. The system crashed, the time slots filled instantly and the supply arrived a day late. Still, we were delighted to get an early morning time slot for today. The appointment is in Cottage Grove (some twenty minutes east of us), same pharmacy, same loose protocols, but this time we are well equipped. Fine particle masks, covered by cloth ones (hey, Fauci double masks!). Gloved hand. Necessary papers in a separate plastic bag. And we're off!

In fact, it is both smoother and faster than three weeks ago. We were in and out in ten minutes, with a "congratulations" from the chatty vaccinating person.

I know you should not feel guilty for getting vaccinated. Indeed, seniors especially need to get these shots as quickly as possible. And we are seniors by any measure. Still, people talk about the joy that comes with that second shot and I can't say that either Ed or I will feel joy until everyone gets a turn. And I mean everyone, down to my youngest grandchild.

For us, there will be only three changes in the way we behave. I'll still wash groceries, wear double masks, avoid everyone outside, avoid going anywhere inside, same old stay at home do nothing. But, I will reconnect with the young families again. They're both isolated and at home, save for their children who are in school/daycare/with a sitter. My second change -- I need to resume the medical appointments I let go of back in March. For example, I haven't had my eyes checked in years. I can't see anything with any clarity anymore! Thirdly -- Ed may do some sailing later in spring. 

None of this will happen just yet. You have to wait a while for stuff to kick in.

 

In the meantime, I'm on the lookout for the much discussed and anticipated side effects of the second shot. I ask Ed if he is tired. He is not. Neither am I. Shouldn't I be? Feeling sick yet? Nope. Me neither. Darn!

By late afternoon, I decide we cannot pass up a chance to at least walk in this beautiful sunshine. It's a bit windy so we still have to bundle up, but we do a grand long hike up to the forest in back of the new development and the new school. Ed had hoped we could hike into the forest, but the snow is just too deep.

The best part? Walking home, with our faces to the sun! (Through the new development, where construction crews are hammering away, polar vortex notwithstanding!)

It's still cold enough for a supper of wintry soup -- red lentils, cooked up with onions and carrots and spiced with ginger, cumin, coriander, turmeric and cayenne pepper. 

And because we are old, after dinner, we huddle under a quilt on the couch. We share a chocolate from our Valentine box and of course, popcorn. 

We are done with shots for now, but we are in spirit with all of you who are still waiting. We applaud all the speedy deliveries, the opening of new vaccination sites, the releasing of more groups to get their appointments. We will be super happy when everyone gets vaccinated. In the meantime, we wait.

With love.

Monday - 339th

Think of it this way: when the thermometer tells you the temperature outside is at the freezing point, you know it's damn cold. Now, subtract forty more degrees from that point (yes forty!) and you have the reading on our thermometer this morning when I go out to feed the animals. With a perky little wind to add insult to an already stinging day.

And I can't just go to the barn, the sheep shed, then home again. I have to fix the long driveway: we'd eyeballed it yesterday and decided it was just fine. What's another inch or two of snow! No more shoveling required. Indeed, I took the car out last night to do a food drop off. No problem!

Nonetheless, right after I had returned home, an Amazon driver texted telling me the driveway is not passable and please advise what to do with some package or other. So this morning, I set out with a shovel. (And oh, the irony! We had some food delivered soon after, and that driver drove into a snowbank. Ed had to push hard to get his car out of trouble.)

 

But here's something that (almost) makes up for the cold: We do have morning sunshine!

Polar air isn't nearly as menacing when there are streaks of sunlight all over the farmette lands. 

Still, it is substantially warmer in here:

Since we did not ski yesterday, the push is on to go out today. I nudge him, he nudges me and finally, just before noon, we head out to our county park. Typically we ski toward evening, to avoid people, but today's sunshine is slated to disappear in the afternoon. Too, we are not going to worry about other skiers on such a cold day. Indeed, even though we ski on the more popular, groomed trails...

... we see not a single other person out there! Could it be that it is just a tad too cold??

We are, of course, used to winter cold. It's Wisconsin, right? Too, we're approaching the tail end of the winter season. These are the last days for the warmest of your warm sweaters. Indeed, by next week, we expect to be up to a mere freezing temperature. (In other words, forty degrees will be added to our bounty!) So I don't feel especially bummed out by this persistent vortexian blast from up north. But I have to say, though it's a rare day that Ed complains of the cold, today, when asked, he responds -- I'm okay except for the numb fingertips and the wind blowing right through my cap.

 

(winter sunsets are often very dramatic...)

 

 

Hot tea, candle burning, grateful: for so many things, but at this second, most grateful for the fantastic furnace that blows delicious warm air out all the vents. Well, except for one vent -- a favorite resting space for the visiting Dance. Imagine warm air gently massaging your winter cold tummy! Mmmm!

Sunday, Valentine's Day

Let's talk about this day and how it fits into the cosmos of our lives.

Want to tune out? Are you one of those (I know a handful!), who has a pshaw attitude toward this holiday? We all get caught up in a scripted life of events and celebrations that, by their very predictability, their load of expectations, make us feel bored, indifferent or even tired and depleted. So perhaps you reject the idea of Valentine's Day because you've allowed yourself to believe that it must follow a pattern, with roses and cards and chocolates and love notes and perfume -- yawn. Not for me, you say.

But can't you write your own script? Can't you step out of the preordained, the conventional, and give yourself the task of designing a day that has meaning on your own terms?

It's hard!

But let's give it a go, shall we?

Let's start from scratch. What's at the essence of Valentine's Day? Well, love of course. Pure, beautiful, uplifting love. Some of you may want to tap my shoulder and say -- romantic love. I wont argue with you, but I do think you are unnecessarily constraining yourself. There are so many components of the love I feel for Ed, why would I limit myself to a day favoring one over the rest? In the same vein, my love for my kids, grandkids, for my good friends is so deep and essential to my everyday -- why should this not be recognized? All those loves give my life direction and meaning. Why would I want to ignore them on a day celebrating love?

Okay, so now you know: I place few limits on what love I want to hold sacred today. But now I sense a different push back: why "hold sacred today?" Celebrating love once a year seems like the worst idea! If love is my driving force (and it is... without it, I would not want to get out of bed in the morning), then why celebrate it at all? Why not just live it? Every day?

Well, because the everyday bit is a tricky thing. We have to wash dishes and clean chicken coops and do laundry and shovel icy walkways and... okay, you get the picture. Your mind churns and moves from one thing to the next and then pfft! Day is done. 

But, on Valentine's Day! Ah, on Valentine's Day! It's different. You and I can pause and dwell on the fundamentals again. We can use symbols -- flowers, sweets, cards, or in some years we can play with the less conventional (because if we do the same thing every single year, and it is scripted, it will get boring! Really it will!). But here's the essential part, I think: if this day is to have any meaning at all, it must lead us to be especially thoughtful and kind to those we love. And playful! 

Being human, I do look for little gifts that validate my belief that I am not in this love bubble alone. They're not hard to find (as I'm sure they're not hard for you to find either). Here's one: Ed came upstairs late after midnight and woke me with the words happy valentine's day and love you. I had to smile, because really, he had to step out of his everyday armor to do this most thoughtful and kind act. (True, he would not have remembered the significance of February 14th, but I'm good at sprinkling hints in the weeks before.)

I let him sleep late. It is such a cold day -- coldest of all, I think -- that I hurried with my morning walk to the barn...

... and hurried back to fuss a little more with breakfast. No oatmeal today!

Because a great chunk of me does ride with the conventional, I have an unreasonably large amount of pink clothing on me today. Well, what can I say -- I like pink! Here we are, mismatched colorwise, but on board with this day. (He would not get up for the photo, so I brought the camera down to his level.)

And then I do something special for the farmette -- I finally take out my plant catalogues and plan the garden. (Normally, we put an end to catalogue delivery by meticulously calling each company and asking them to please stop sending us paper stuff, but with the pandemic, we'd grown lax.) My favorite local perennial retailer has closed its doors and so I have to extend my orbit to more distant places to find favorites. Yes, as you know if you at all look at my summer photos, I do have favorites!

Anything else? Well, Ed did acquire a card for me because he knows I like that. I did not acquire a card for him because I know he is indifferent to it. But I did order a box of chocolates. From Chicago (Vosges), for us to share. Today we ate a truffle with violet petals. Ah, love is in the air! He fixed little things that I had wanted fixed. I fussed more with dinner than I might usually fuss. And I popped open a bottle of prosecco and made him take a sip because this creates an opportunity for him to remind me how much he dislikes wine. An unconventional form of kindness, I think: give him a chance to dislike something I offer! (Gifts do not have to be purchased!)

As for the kids and grandkids -- oh, they heard from me alright! The local ones got some hand delivered foods and treats...

(included: a flourless chocolate cake, recipe: Lebovitz)

The more distant ones got something in the the mail.

 

(home again)

 

 

 

But more importantly, I thought about these guys in the best ways, all day long. Friends too: I thought about the sustaining conversations I have with them, about the trips we've taken together, about how beautiful and incredibly perfect their sweetness is and has been for a long long time. 

So, a wonderful day, a most special day! So much of it focused on the most important emotion within us. Love.

Saturday - 337th

We wake up to more snow. As I shovel our path out the door, I note that the piles are monstrously big -- the kind that you associate with Buffalo in New York, or Sapporo in Japan. The farmette lands have never looked more winter fresh, winter lovely. 

I walk to the barn, no longer surprised by the temperature readings. Bitter cold. Ho hum.

I fix breakfast, Dance comes inside and develops a fascination with the strands of reed in the tulip vase.

Yep, we're all hungry for green stuff!

I have three errands today: a curbside pickup of carrots from our favorite carrot/spinach farmer (who hands out bags of stuff at the winter pandemic-style farmers market).

Next, a curbside pickup of some bakery treats for tomorrow. Because, you know, tomorrow can be extra special, if you're feeling extra warm and fuzzy and expressive.

Finally, a delivery of said bakery items to the young family, so they can have a warm and fuzzy and expressive weekend as well.

And then I drive by a car lot, to look with longing at new cars. Me, who pretty much hates cars, who hasn't had a new car in many decades, who doesn't believe in wasting life's savings on a car -- here I am, looking at a parking lot full of them. Call it the pandemic crazy. 

Meh, they all look dirty, covered with snow, salt and sand, just like mine!

The roads are slippery. One car slides off the highway and rolls down the hill. 

Another veers inadvertently into the median. How did we move from a light snowfall to a blustery blowing snow event? 

 

 

 

Still, by late afternoon, the clouds move on to dump a winter mess elsewhere. Sunshine! Ed and I go skiing. 

There is a bitter wind that takes away any potential comfort from the sun. Eyes glazed, cheeks stiff, blowing snow covering the track. We do just one loop along the trails and call it quits. Brrrr!

The best thing about going out in the bitter cold? Coming into a warm house after, where a pot of soup is waiting to be heated for supper. Since I'd stopped at the bakery, I had a fresh cheese baguette to add to it. 

Heavenly.

Friday - 336th

A hazy February day. A dozy day for Ed (I am counting the number of times Ed dozed off on the couch today and I've had to switch to the other hand to continue my tally). A cold day once again.

 

 

 

We have four more days of Arctic air before us (and four more nights, where the readings fall below what are already ridiculously low temperatures). Everything outside is solidly frozen that it's hard to imagine a melting of the snow cover anytime soon.

Pancake, the new feral cat who hides out under the writer's shed, is showing up every day now for her feeding and since the band of brothers and sisters is choosing to avoid being out in the cold, it's easy for me to slip her a heaping bowl of food while they're not watching. Other than her stealthy black and white presence, everything outside is very still. I have to think any animal would be cowering and covering from the relentless blast of frigid air. Search for food, then hide.

(Our own morning food...)

 

 

 

In the late afternoon, I nudge Ed a little and ask if he wants to go out for a quick ski run with me.

Too sleepy -- is the rather predictable reply. I put on my ski shoes and leave, determined to not give in to the cold and the clouds and the cold and the cold. 

The car will not start. Dead battery.

We can't hook up the cables to Ed's car because Ed hasn't used his car since, oh sometime in 2020. The doors are frozen shut and I doubt the battery is in any better shape than mine. He brings out the extension cord and we hook up a charger to the very dead battery and leave it do its work. 

As he and I walk back to the farmhouse, Ed asks -- should we get you a new battery?

No, I tell him. I'm really truly getting another car.

Big sigh on his part.

Big uncertainty on my part.

Big super deep freeze tonight and tomorrow night and the night after.

Small step count on my Fitbit today. Ah well...

For a cold night you need warm food. I cook up a cauliflower chicken chowder. Like a clam chowder, only with chicken. Puree some of the cauliflower and potatoes and broth and you have a thickened, rib sticking soup.

 

Later, much later we watch a Netflix movie. A war story about a heroic escape of a resistance fighter in Norway during the Second World War. If you're feeling bummed out about our polar vortex, I recommend you give it a try: The Twelfth Man. You will never complain about the polar vortex again.

Thursday - 335th

I like how the weather people report to you that it is currently -0F outside (equivalent to -18C). The negative sign is like an adjective accenting the utter cold out there. And don't forget the windchill! Brrrr!

And yet, one of the cheepers laid an egg. If ever the was a sign of spring around the bend, an egg in the roost surely is that.

We eat breakfast in the kitchen, but it's a jazzed up kitchen table. I decided to bring in just for this one day the orchids that are blooming their heads off in the sun room. These two potted plants have been with us for well over a decade and each February, they produce a nice bounty of flowers, but this year they have positively exploded! So we eat with orchids.

 

This winter has had a lot of waiting to it. For the isolation to subside, for the vaccinations to arrive, for the political turmoil to settle, and now for the bitter cold to do an about face and return to the Arctic where, I hope, it will feel welcomed and loved. So today, as every day, we wait.

I do have a change of pace -- a Zoom call with my Polish friends. Unfortunately, there is more illness to report, more difficult days to describe.

 

On the upside, we have this Zoom time, a Fat Thursday no less, to remind ourselves of all that's good about our lives. (All Poles eat the special Polish donuts today, the Thursday before Lent. Really, they ALL go out of their way to search out the best, their favorite donut. Well, okay, some may choose faworki instead.)

And yes, toward evening Ed and I hit the trails with our skis. We must! It's going to get even worse this weekend. May as well feel merely cold as opposed to impossibly bitterly horribly cold! (Although Ed tells me it's pretty cold right now. Definitely one of our colder runs.)

Evening quiet. Restful winter. Warm foods. Waiting, for spring.

With love.

Wednesday - 334th

Eyes on the thermometer, on the cats, on the microwave. 

When you live in isolation, your day is made up of little acts, facts and foibles. You notice that the polar vortex is still the unwelcome visitor that has way overstayed any possible welcome. And you try to coax and cajole six feral cats away from the writer's shed so that the seventh feral cat can get something to eat. Because it is super cold and you can't stand the idea of the seventh, an outsider, going hungry out there in the wild. 

And you provide encouraging words to Ed who has finally brought in a new, brand new $50 microwave to replace the broken one that has been dangling over our stove for months now. The busted machine comes down, the new one goes up. 

After breakfast of course.

(Ed's morning hair...)

Eyes on the live coverage TV,  on the play room which still needs a lot of straightening and winnowing, on the sky where the clouds move away and reveal lovely sunshine. Still polar vortex cold and a touch windy, so that if you go out, your face stiffens to something resembling cardboard. But we can't resist. We ski, alone, I guess because no one else finds cardboard faces to be attractive.

Eyes on dinner preparation and unfortunately not on Dance who is underfoot and suffers the indignity of being stepped on by me.  I hope she does not hold grudges. 

 

 

 

Dance now routinely spends time in the farmhouse in the evening, though I have to wipe her down before she comes in because she has taken to rolling around the dirt in the barn right after her dinner. My hands look nearly black afterwards. Did someone say cats are exceptionally clean?

 

So no, I did not write much today. Distractions were ever present. Good ones mostly. Seventh cat well fed, microwave installed, and a double loop skied. A day of accomplishment, wouldn't you say?

Tuesday - 333rd

Just in case you live in a northern state and you think that the trauma of the pandemic, of a polar vortex week, of having kids underfoot, of the sameness of each solitary day are all just too much, do take note of this: today, the first bunches of daffodils appeared in our grocery store's flower buckets. And as it was a grocery ordering day, I had an early morning delivery... 

 (sunrise over farmette lands)

 

 

... that included this beautiful face of spring:

(an incongruous pairing: daffodils next to a candle with a lovely scent of a Christmas tree; we are in a period of transition!)

I know that daffodils come late to our gardens here. We have to wait until April for that. But grocery store daffodils (possibly the cheapest flower ever sold) are a fine start of what's to come. Think of it -- below that frozen ground, things are stirring restlessly, waiting for that moment when shoots can break ground and announce the coming of spring!

 

 

 

Just not today.

Breakfast, after I shave Ed's beard. How about a pre-Valentine photo of the two of us?

Okay, so there are daffodils. That's great. But one cannot escape the elephant in the room -- the bitter cold. I see that when the groceries are being dropped off on the chair at the end of the driveway, it's -9F (-23C). And worse -- by Sunday night it will be twice that number below zero. What to do, what to do...

Here's my strategy (after I'm done appreciating the daffodils):

First, I think of the people who live in regions where this reading isn't all that unusual. Imagine those who inhabit northern Finland. Or northern Canada. Their skin must positively crackle from the cold! So I'm grateful. And I turn the thermostat up a little. After all, Ed is sitting with a quilt over him in the middle of the day. That's how cold it is. (It is true that under that quilt, he is wearing shorts.)

Secondly, we go skiing. Because outdoor sports do get you out of your polar-vortex-that's-lasting-way-too-long funk. Really they do. (I see that many do not share this view. Once again, the trail is completely empty.)

Third -- there's the candle. As I mentioned, I have one more Christmas tree (very lightly) scented soy candle and picking up that whiff of a Christmas tree reminds me that we could still be in mid December, waiting for that holiday, instead of in the middle of February, waiting for daylight savings time (March 14th!) to get here.

Finally, I cook up a big pot of chili. I picked out two bags of tomatoes from the big freezer and I set the big yellow pot on our stove for a night (or two or three, depending on our appetites) of gut warming chili. (Yes, it's true: I add chicken sausage to ours. People do all sorts of crazy things to their chili.)

(Primrose, joining me for a FaceTime chat, watching me cook)

Tell a child there's a polar vortex stuck over your town and they'll shrug their shoulders and keep on playing. And so should we. Yep, and so should we.

Monday - 332nd

My thought today? Be careful what you wish for!

For any number of reasons, Ed is making a concerted effort to pick up some household tasks. For example -- this morning I hear him telling me: don't you get up, gorgeous. I'll go feed the animals. And he did! I was in bed until 9!

And after breakfast...

... I see him taking apart the dish rack. I had been wiping it down and now here he is, screwdriver in hand, tearing the thing up, wiping it with vinegar, scraping it with sharp objects. 

Now, you have to understand, cleaning the dish rack is a big deal. We have such hard water that you may as well be pouring calcium pebbles out of our faucet. And no, we're never going to soften the water. We're not wanting to dump salt into farmette lands. So we live with the minerals and everything sooner or later gets a hard coating of white stuff, with an orange hue. And when the urge to get it cleaned strikes you, then you gotta go big. A wipe down will accomplish nothing. So Ed goes big and now dish rack pieces are all over the kitchen counter and I of course feel compelled to help him. We spend a big part of the morning cleaning the damn dish rack. And you know what? You can't even see the effect. It's covered up by dishes that rest in the rack during the day.

And because Ed had been putting in some effort, I force myself to get moving on the huge job of tidying up the kids' playroom. There are a lot of lego pieces and partially decapitated structures floating around that need some organizational magic to get them looking like something other than a mess. And the gate keeping Sparrow out has to come down. The kids were freely walking through it daily. Away it goes. There's still much to organize and give away, but at least I started in on that project.

I should be pleased. We both worked hard to get things in order at the farmhouse. So that's good, right? 

To a point. Too much cleaning and clearing leaves you depleted. As in -- I wasted a day on tidying? How mindlessly boring is that!

On the upside, I had my weekly Zoom call with this girl:

We discussed, among other things, monsters that are, at night, out to get you.

And toward evening, Ed feels strong enough to go skiing with me. We do the big loop in our park and the trail is completely empty. No Super Bowl to thank for that. It was the cold that kept people away. Did I tell you -- we are still in the deep freeze. When the wind kicks in, we are going to really feel like the Arctic is some nice tropical retreat by comparison.

A winter sunset.

Home. With cats, leftovers, Netflix, pop corn, and a clean dish rack.