December 4th

I wake up, glance at my phone to check the weather and let out a sigh. It's not that the temps are cold. I mean, they should be cold. It's December. The 4th to be exact. In Poland, they're celebrating St. Barbara's Day. So happy name day to all the Barbaras in my life and especially you, there in Warsaw! In my childhood, we referred to this day as Barbórka. St. Barbara  is the patron saint of miners and mining was a big deal in postwar Poland. So December 4th was Miners Day. If you dig deeper, you'll read that this association of St. Barbara with mining was widespread in all of Central Europe. The story behind St Barbara is rather grizzly: she lived at the turn of the 3rd and 4th century and she was beheaded by her father for who knows what reason -- something to do with chastity or her Christian faith (her father was a Pagan, so you could say it's one of those generational struggles of belief systems). Barbórka may be a miner's holiday, but it came to have customs associated with it that extended beyond mining communities and many of them centered around death, or rather the avoidance of death. For example women would not sew on this day because a prick of the finger would lead to certain and very painful death. Lovely, huh? Meantime the menfolk would traditionally gather in taverns and drink beer and ear pork knuckle.

But I digress.

When I look at my phone, I see nothing but clouds forecast for as long as my phone gives out a forecast. 

I walk out to feed the animals, taking in the moisture in the air. No frost today. Pungent smells of a damp earth.

This is when I need to ratchet up the hygge inside. Switch the coffee cup to one I never use because it's too "special." Take out the Cafe Varenne milk pitcher and open the Acacia Sauvage honey I had picked up at Famille Mary's honey shop.

And bake some muffins, for the girl who loves them and for the aroma they bring to the farmhouse.

Both Ed and I avoid the subject of The Walk. The one we're supposed to take each day because it's good for us, one neither of us feels like doing on this day. He's lost in his machining design project, I'm catching up with life. Groceries (purchasing), gifts (wrapping), cats (feeding the finicky eater), candles (returning). My December 4th in a nutshell. 

And in the afternoon I pick up Snowdrop, who stuns me in showing up dressed in a dress. Do kids outgrow clothing convictions? Did she?

Some things do not change. Read, eat, read some more. Less and less play. She saves that for her time with friends, though ask her if she's outgrown some (all?) of the toys in the play room and she'll give you a resounding "no!"

And in the evening Ed and I retreat into our routines! Supper, a show. We repeat it again and again and it never grows old!

with love...

December 3rd

Sometime just before 10 last night, an Amazon driver dropped off a small package. Ed finds two batteries in his stash and recharges them in our handy battery recharger. By this morning, we are in business.

I have several comments to make about artificial candles: first of all, it is true what they say -- they are much improved these days. The look is there. This one, an especially adored one, has wax on the outside and yes, the flame does sway with the movement of air. Or something. It looks good, it feels good to the touch. And importantly, it does not emit particles of anything into the air -- safe for Ed, and frankly, safe for all of us. 

However.

The warmth in an artificial candle has to be all in the visuals. Not to underestimate the importance of that, but still, the flame is not warm to the touch (you'd be surprised that this matters, given that you dont actually touch a burning candle). No match lighting a wick. No care taken as you pass a jar of jam over the lighted wick. So, no heat. And no delicate whiff of spruce, or sea salt, or boreal forest... I've always known that scent triggers recollection. It turns out that it also puts us in a frame of mind and artificial candles just do not have the power to create that magic.

Still, it's warm looking and that does matter. Especially on a day like today: more light snow on the ground, destined to melt soon, until the next one, which, too will melt. And again. And again, until the temps drop so much that we will begin to see a real snow cover. Maybe toward the end of the month. But in the meantime, we have this, and it is lovely to step out into the crunch of snow as I walk to feed the animals.

And since our breakfast discussion naturally (or rather unnaturally) led us to talk about particles in the air, the subject of the induction stove -- the one we did not get because we are not wired for that level of electricity -- came up. 

I thought our air purifier was supposed to make out kitchen air safe... And yet it didn't help clear the candle particles for Ed. Shouldn't we, therefore, reconsider rewiring for induction? The safer way to cook foods? Because clearly the air purifier isn't totally picking up the stuff in the air.

This leads us to much hand wringing and internet searching and in the end, we compromise once again: we'll get one free standing induction burner (so, no rewiring needed) and two induction pots and I will try to do all, well most of my cooking that way. 

So typical: one thing leads to the next and before you know it, we're spinning into something unexpected. This is the way our days move forward!  

Having decided on this mini induction route, we spend a lot of time choosing the two perfect pots for our soon to arrive cooking unit. A lot of time.

We do go out for a walk and this one is proposed by Ed: downtown, along State Street -- up and down, from campus to Capitol... 

... and back again.  Eventually we come to an art gallery where they are displaying woven tapestries depicting activist women, accomplishing great things within the domain of water. I wasn't enthusiastic about seeing this initially, but in the end I'm glad we went. 

I only recognized one name (Carson). Reason enough to learn about the others. Ed liked the video demonstrating computerized designing of loom weaving. And because it was nearby, we walked over to the Madison Museum of Contemporary Art.

(a sheep made of scissors, a garden made of spades...)

As Ed commented afterwards -- we had a really cultured afternoon! A rarity for us!

And in the evening, the young family is here for dinner. It's Sandpiper's first look at the Christmas tree. (He is enthusiastic about taking ornaments off and... attempting to put them back on the branch.)

(The big two hit the Advent Calendars...)

Oh, does it feel like winter now! Dark outside, tree inside, specks of snow, cold wind blowing, warm sauce for seafood bubbling on the stove.... Cold season, warm comforts. 

Honestly, December feels as if it's whizzing by at top speed. I mean, it's the end of day three already? Remarkable!

December 2nd

In living with Ed, I have to dance. The guy had been on his own all his adult life before he met me, and I was a rather unusual addition to his routines. (Remember, we have "nothing in common.") Sure, he, too, had to adjust. Living in a house that had furniture. Sitting down to breakfast daily, with me. Sunday dinners with seven at the table. All new and strange routines.

And then there is Christmas. 

It took years of gradual maneuvers before I finally brought in a real cut down tree of reasonable height to the farmhouse. (I first decorated a potted Norfolk Pine, then I bought tiny grocery store trees, until finally, two years ago, I bought an actual stand and an actual tree that would fit in it. In other words, for many Christmases, I danced.) And he's still not on board with gift buying, but he no longer runs away to the sheep shed when the boxes start arriving (instead, I quickly take them up to the second bedroom and I do not put them in the living room until a minute before the recipients arrive). Music? Oh that's a tough one. Ed likes quiet and so I save it for car rides and when he is engrossed with something in the shed.

I did think we were fairly safe with having one candle burning. My hygge winter candle! But, first -- Montana Forest went, and this morning he tells me -- the smell of the "Christmas Tree" candle (one I had used for several years now) chokes me. 

I do know people who are allergic to fragrance of any sort. I remember once buying a thank you potted jasmine plant for my daughters' music teacher. She was a gardener so I thought it was a good match. I was wrong. She asked me to immediately take it away. Flowers in the garden? No problem. Flowers (or perfumes or any fragrance) in the house? She couldn't handle it. But Ed isn't like that. He'll use his very fragrant in my opinion laundry detergent (because he thinks my environmentally friendly one is too wimpy). He never flinches with soaps, shampoos and the like. And his sheep shed? Let's just say it is very fragrant, though no company would package and market the smell that I so associate with the interior. (On my very first visit there, he deliberately baked up a pan of jiffy corn bread to disguise the odor. I wasn't fooled.) 

Since I don't care for pungent candles either, I pick my winter ones carefully. Some would say you can't smell a damn thing. And there's no sweetness to it. No flowers, no vanilla, none of that. All forest and sea salt and ferns. Still, as you perhaps know, none of the candle fragrances are "natural." My most benign candles are Scandinavian and everything about them is about as environmentally friendly as you can get but the fact is, burning candles is never totally nonpolluting. There are particles in the air and there is that gentle (in my opinion) whiff of something resembling a forest, but not really being of a forest. All that apparently triggered an asthmatic reaction in him.

So, no more candles? What would a Danish person do?? 

For the time being, I'm laying low with them (though he claims that hours after it has been snuffed out, the  post-candle air still irritates his passages). I may try one or two from my precious Scandinavian collection down the road. Maybe. And, because I see this now as a doomed component of my winter survival strategy, I ordered a fake candle, spending the late hours of the night reading reviews of which one appears to be most realistic. No, I don't think it will be the same. On the other hand, the Danish home where my daughter and her family stayed this summer had several similar fake candles scattered about the place. So maybe it passes the high Danish hygge bar? I'll let you know.

The morning here is gloomy. There is a light dusting. of snow from yesterday's flurry, but it's not something that'll make you love winter. The grayness pokes through. Ed had asked if we should put away the plastic Adirandack chair for the winter and I said -- no, it's the only spot of color right now!

I drive down to Madison Sourdough for baked goods, but instead of listening to music, I tune into an interview with Ryan Castenaz who wrote a book about... coffee.  In the interview, he spoke of the American phases of coffee consumption. Phase 1. -- the Folgers and Maxwell House era where simplicity ruled (think: Mr. Coffee), Phase 2 -- Starbucks and the like, Phase 3 -- when we pay attention to coffee origins and notes on the palate, and his hope for a Phase 4 -- when we also pay attention to the barista's creativity in imagining a coffee drink that is beautiful and sensual and surprising. He described one creation where he adds olive oil and egg white to the espresso cup. (You'll find other recipes in his published compilation.)  None of his recipes sounded great to me, but perhaps I am a mere neophyte, stuck somewhere between Phase 2 and 3. Perhaps I should expand my coffee worldview and bring this, rather than spruce candles into my hygge world?  

I can't even do a credible heart design with steamed milk. Maybe I haven't a creative barista gene.

Breakfast, noticeably without a candle.

Lunch? Well, there are cheerful roses from the grocery store. Not quite sure that they fit a winter cozy mood, but they are special.

We go out for a walk. I have to run two errands on Madison's east side so we pick Olbrich Botanical Gardens as our destination. On the one hand, the walk is not very long. With the closure of the Asian Pavilion (a tree fell on a bridge leading to it), you can walk the whole perimeter of the Gardens and be done in twenty minutes. 

We both agree that the prettiest path right now is the one between the birches. 

Still, it's good to see the whole professionally maintained winter garden. It makes you feel okay about your own efforts to create something pleasing out of spent flowers.

From there, eventually we wind up at Gail Ambrosius Chocolate Shop. I used to bake with Gail at L'Etoile, where we both were earning a little extra cash in our off hours. In 2004, she launched her dream of making chocolates and especially truffles in her own space. 

Unlike other local, very good chocolatiers, hers is a changing menu of fantastic chocolates. I wanted something to tide me over until Christmas Day and so Ed purchased a box of 24 of my own selection.

Heaven! Lemon grass with ginger, blueberry, cognac, cointreau, raspberry, and Lucille's vanilla. All infusing a dark, single origin ganache, made from cacao beans grown without chemicals.  Oh, and two seasonal chocolates thrown in: gingerbread and eggnog. 

It's dusky dark by the time we pull up the farmette driveway. Coming in through the mudroom and into the farmhouse kitchen, I miss that automatic winter movement toward the box of matches that will light a favorite candle. Odd that it should matter so much, isn't it? Of course, Ed is breathing easier tonight and that's a bigger sigh of relief. 

And then as the evening sets in, I take out my wrapping paper, and I do put on music because Ed has grown sweetly tolerant of it in small doses, and I set to work on the next boy's Christmas presents (darn those two boys with their large gifts!). Ed is on the couch, reading the paper on his computer. Specifically, an article about which has the greater environmental impact: the artificial tree or the real one? The article references a study, summarized in a 141 page document which, of course, he clicks to and reads now. Every few seconds, he calls out snippets of it: and you have to count the shipment from China, the unpacking of it at the dock, .... and with the real tree, the greenhouse where the saplings begin their life and... The conclusion? Never try to be righteous about your choice of product in terms of the environmental impact! It's complicated!

And so the day begins with candles and ends with tree purchase analysis, and if all this seems to be so antithetical to an easy slide into a joyous season -- well, you're right, it is. But life with Ed (or, you could argue -- life with Nina), requires these kinds of maneuvers so that we can stay afloat, together, in this complicated life of choices and preferences.

Want to share a cider? -- he asks then, wanting to demonstrate how we still do share so much. Despite our own peculiarities and idiosyncrasies. He gets a half smile for that one. Sure, would love that...

December 1st

And a happy December to you!

(farmhouse Advent calendars will alway have just pictures to tickle your December whimsy; this year there are four here, plus a card to cover the socket -- so, a calendar for each Madison child and one for me; easy to see which one is mine! with thanks to my Ocean friend for these...) 

I understand that in Australia, a new season starts with the first day of the month of seasonal change. And so today would be the beginning of winter, were we to go that route. It makes sense. This does not feel like Fall.

Happy December, happy winter!

Cosy breakfast time!

It is the type of weather that keeps you indoors. Just on the cusp of freezing, a thick cloud cover, very still wintry air. The cold comes from the entirety rather than from just the thermometer outside your window. 

This is when you hate reading articles about the need for movement. Yes, I can slip on my ballet shoes. Yes, I'll drag out and wipe down the dust covered pedals of my couch bike. But this is not what the wise docs mean by movement. I should be biking, hiking, lifting plants from the soil -- spring and summer stuff. But here we are, in winter, without the snow, without the enthusiasm to be outside.

I blame the furnace, the tree, and the candle. Way too pretty and snug. When hygge is so full of comfort and charm that it keeps you rooted to your home, then you have to ask yourself -- is there such a thing as too much hygge?

In the Little Book of Hygge (written by Meik Viking, the CEO of the Happiness Research Institute in Copenhagen), a hygge manifesto lists ten essential principles: Atmosphere, Presence, Pleasure, Equality, Gratitude, Harmony, Comfort, Truce, Togetherness, and Shelter. 

When you get down to specifics, the advice is to get comfy, to be here now -- without your phone, to turn down the lights and bring out the candles (despite air quality issues, most Danes burn many candles from October through March), to build relationships, and to give yourself a break from the demands of healthy living -- with the reminder that "cake is most definitely hygge."

This is all good, but winter is long and breaking from the demands of healthy living cannot last for half the year. 

Reluctantly, therefore, we go out for a walk. In the neighborhood. Briskly, cutting through the prairie on the return. (The view of the barn from here in the wintertime is downright... spooky!)

But I bring out the gingerbread for lunch. I'm back on track to fulfill my hygge dreams!

There's one more obligatory December task -- and may I remind you, it is December! -- I promised myself I'd wrap family presents: one person's gifts each of the nine first days of the month. I start off with Sandpiper today because his are bulky and not fun to do (the little guy loves big trucks, and no, he does not read Ocean!). Well, except for this little add-on:

I am going to get the reputation of being the grandma who wraps in brown. I've been trying to avoid the colorful sparkly papers for a while now, because you can't recycle them. Besides, I also do not like picking unique papers for each kid, because they always pick favorites, and chances are high that the favorite will be another child's paper, not their own. This year, they'll all get the same (brown!) paper. Only the color of the ribbon changes. Sandpiper is stuck with sage green.

In the afternoon, I pick up the two kids.

It's their crazy lesson day and still, despite the rushed schedule, we pause for ice cream at our local coffee shop. It is our Friday tradition. Hygge, meet Miami white, with black and white chairs for contrast.

(and then home...)

 Where the calendars await...

(right about now is when a wet snow begins to fall...)

Once the boy is at his lesson, playing his violin, and the girl is dancing, I step out for a quick walk in the shopping neighborhood where I'm to wait for the lesson's end. It's pretty here in December!

I stop over at Steve's and study the liqueurs: an Austrian Stone Pine Liqueur of the Alps. And one from Sardinia -- made with myrtle berries, sweetened with sugar, but also honey. This, perhaps added to a bit of white wine for a kir vin blanc, is the more perfect aperitif on a winter night. More boozy concoctions would probably be even more "cosy," but at my age, you have to save that for only the most special occasions. 

A December day. Welcome, winter.

with love...

Thursday

As he watches me scribble the short few words into holiday cards, Ed asks -- do you enjoy doing this each year? And I answer, truthfully -- yes. In fact, it's one of my favorite things to do now, in these late days of November (or early days of December). He puts down his computer and stares at me, trying to take that in. I see the question mark in his eyes, so I go on to explain. You give a few minutes to just those people who are special in your life. You focus on them, one at a time, you think about them, their wishes, their needs, as you maybe write something, and slip the card into an envelope. You're spending time with them in this unique way. I truly love it.

This then is my late morning. After I've already fed the animals...

... and had breakfast with Ed. A little more healthy today. One has to take pauses from the sugar highs!

I tell him how warm it feels outside. It had already climbed up to above freezing by the time of my walk to the barn. A month ago, a reading of 34F (1C) would have sent a chill down my spine. I may have searched for a cap and scarf. Today? Nothing like coming out of a deep freeze to make you appreciate the gift of a few extra degrees!

We go for a walk in our local park. 

The landscape very much looks like a once vibrant scene that has shut down for the winter. Packed its bags and moved south. Like the carnival guys with the colorful merry-go-round and the cotton candy that have moved on. With nothing left but the somber bare branched trees and brown stems of dormant grasses and prairie flowers. Brittle and forgotten. It has its own beauty of course, especially on a sunny day, but it's not an easy, in your face beauty and for once I leave my heavy camera at home. I take in all that I see with my whole body and soul, and it requires work. Still, I pause and take out my smart phone for this:

In the afternoon, the color returns to the farmette in the form of energetic elementary school kids. 

And of course, there is the tree -- always there to remind you, remind me that December -- that next month that starts in just a few hours, is a fabulous month despite the paltry hours of sunlight. You are in charge of color. You cant always leave it up to nature to paint cheer into your days.

with love...

Wednesday

I think that if I ate nothing but sweets for breakfast and for lunch, I'd work through the pile of goodies in our pantry by... the first day of spring! Maybe later. It almost makes me want to have a holiday party, so that I can put out trays of my favorite treats, but for the fact that I no longer enjoy attending big parties and therefore I have to think I am not a good candidate to host one. 

Ed and I are slow eaters. The 2-person Thanksgiving dinner we bought from the restaurant this year? It took us three days of eating to get through it. We ran out of turkey meat, but the rest was abundant enough to last us into the weekend. You know how parents of teenage boys complain that they never have enough in the fridge to satisfy the raging appetites of their sons? We are the opposite of that: we get full very quickly, all the more so since our movement pace has slowed down considerably with the arrival of very cold air. 

I like to bake. I've always baked for my family and for a while I continued to bake for Ed, but honestly, unless I make something that the kids will devour (and they are fussy), I may as well put away my baking pans this winter because we just cant work through an added cake or tart or confection, given all the sugared items we have stored in our cupboards, spilling out into the mudroom. 

I read in the paper today that "A plane fueled by fat and sugar has crossed the Atlantic Ocean" -- Virgin Airlines Boeing 787, so no small little prop aircraft there! I tell you, everywhere I turn this week, there is talk of butter fat and sugar.

Nonetheless, I continue to be tantalized by all that I see in cookbooks, and in bakeries pictured on my computer screen. I suppose I should be relieved that we do not really have exciting cafe-bakeries near where I live. How could I resist them in the cold months of winter?! Well, at least I'd get vicarious pleasure in taking in the fragrance of cakes and coffee, and in watching others devour that, which I cannot possibly digest anymore (after eating a sweet morning bun for breakfast and gingerbread cookies for lunch). 

Summer tempts with flowers. Winter tempts with cinnamon rolls and gingerbread doused in chocolate.

It's supposed to warm up today and indeed, it does creep up to 40F (4C) by midafternoon, but tell that to the chickens when they step out of the coop this morning: it's only in the teens (so, close to -10C) when I go looking for them in the barn. The snow, thin layer that it is, is slated to mostly melt by the day's end, but for now, it's still pretty to look at. Crunchy with every step.

Breakfast -- yeah, that morning bun! And it's good!

During this morning meal I try to convince Ed that our bakeries bake cookies (same ones everywhere -- chocolate chip and oatmeal raisin) that are too big, too ordinary, and therefore inappropriate for a holiday plate which insists on variety and maybe a little surprise. Full disclosure: he does not agree. Break off what you want from the big cookie -- he tells me, missing entirely the impact of visual pleasure of snacking and sampling.

And another morning passes with delightful details of the holiday season: checking on wrapping papers, on winter caps and scarves in the closet, on flight sales (I have gone back to exchange tickets purchased for next year repeatedly to take advantage of sales; it takes time, but it's worth it!), checking in on friends as well. So easy to let that slide by with the demands of the month clamping down on you. I don't want to be that person who has to be prodded to write!

And soon it is time to pick up th kids. Yes, after my lunch break for coffee and... holiday treats!

The kids happily tell me that there was still snow on the ground for recess. I glance at the weather forecast for the early weeks of December. It's a cold one! Did someone say that we're in for a mild winter? 

A few minutes outside...

(there is a brown hydrangea in her hair... she thinks it calls for a more serious countenance)

... and in we go. Books, snacks and magnet cubes. That pretty much sums up our afternoon together.

(the tree, in sunlight...)

If you ask me which is better -- the crunch of a frozen path or the slush of a muddy walkway, I'll take the former right now. We're not yet fed up with the cold -- too, we have enough sugar-fueled energy to meet it head on.  Tomorrow, no matter what, we'll head out for a hike. For sure. Maybe.

with love...