fourth day slog?

If I thought Ed would breeze through Covid and be back on the couch soon -- well, that's not going to happen. If I thought I'd be clear of it, just because I'm currently not sick -- no such reassurance there either (CDC says you can first test positive even 10 days after exposure). My partner in nearly all aspects of daily life is still feverish and mostly sleeping. Plus he can't seam to talk much as his larynx is highly irritated. So calling him is a bust: either I wake him, or I don't, but he wont say much anyway, so why bother.

And it continues to be beastly cold outside. We have another couple of days of biting temperatures and a vicious wind.

All that sounds pretty grim, but actually I'm not feeling grim. Ed is microscopically better every hour so an end will soon be in sight (just not as quickly as I had first thought -- my own Covids had been resolved within a week). Too, there is that sunshine that once again brightened the landscape here at the farmette and beyond. The Arctic air does not have the last word! The sunshine makes me feel it's just another lovely winter day. Just without snow (which truly is unfortunate).

Breakfast? Still on the healthy side. Come on, we're only on day four of the new year!

 

Afterwards I do a triple whammy -- I have a carrot pickup at the farmers' drop off point downtown (carrots sweetened by the cold are the best! I buy mountains of them from Snug Haven Farms in the winter months). And so long as I am there, I decide to take my daily walk (so far it's daily, though again, we are just on day four!) in that neighborhood. The idea was to walk along the lesser lake, but one minute there and despite my warm clothing, my scarf, my cap, my hood, my mitts, I am chilled: my face feels like a brittle leaf about to be crumpled to pieces, the wind is that strong. I do not know how these ice fisher people do it! 

So I turn into the more protected blocks of the lakeside neighborhood. I walk from the lesser lake to the shores of Lake Monona and here's a surprise: that larger lake is not yet frozen! True, it froze in December during that Arctic blast, but what ice cover there was, did not survive the warm temps over the holidays. And now it looks like this:

There is always much speculation as to when it will freeze. Last year was considered a late one -- January 15th. The average freeze date is December 20th. And now here we are -- waiting. Not for long, I'm sure. We have no temps above freezing in the next several weeks.

[While we're all staring at the icy lake waters, I have to insert this: Snowdrop had her kid birthday party today -- at a local pool/mini-water-park.  I'm told that apart from surfacing for cake and presents, all the kids stayed in the water for a solid four hours. It was tough getting them out. Me, I cannot imagine getting excited about a pool today! Hot shower? Yes. Pool with slides and islands? Not a chance.]

My third stop is at the drugstore to restock and resupply. Again, I'm still thinking I may get Ed's Covid. Better be ready!

And in the afternoon? Well, I danced. My playlist lends itself to dance even at my age (and perhaps especially at my age) and I rarely do that when Ed is here -- not because I'm shy, but because Ed only tolerates my occasional bouts of noise from the radio or my play lists. I know he prefers quiet.

It was not quiet here this afternoon.

As I moved in ways that get my daughters laughing ("it's so 70s!"), I wondered why we -- us older types -- no longer dance with friends. (The last time I let it loose out there on the floor was at a Polish friend's wedding. In 2017. Before that? Can't even remember...) We eat, we drink, we talk. Last year in Poland, we played games -- that didn't go so well! Hurt feelings, misunderstandings ensued. So... why don't we just dance? 

Maybe next time.

In the evening I reheat soup and watch a string of episodes of a sitcom. True, it makes me feel I'm on a long flight (that's when I usually binge watch TV sitcoms), but I just cannot take the seriousness of the movies we've pulled into our favorites folder. 2025 has to include laughter. Tonight I give a small chuckle here and there. It's a start!

with love...

third day charm?

It really is bitter cold outside. The kind of cold that can keep you bound to your heated space inside, undoing any resolve to move more in 2025. The thermometer reads 14f (-10C), but it feels much colder than that. The winds are gusty, piercing through any protection you may have. And we're not the only ones feeling the deep freeze -- many states are getting that direct hit of Arctic air right now. 

On the upside, it is a sunny day. The psychological boost you get from that is tremendous. 

This is what you must do on a day like this: fit in your daily walk into the wee hours of the morning, because you will not feel like going out again later. And so after feeding the hens, I resist the temptation to go back to my deliciously warm kitchen for my milky coffee and granola (croissants? what croissants? don't know anything about croissants -- I tell myself) and I head toward the new development for a brisk walk.

It is so cold that I keep my face down the whole way. And my sweatpants? Useless. I'm so chilled at the end that it takes blankets and many cups of hot herbal tea to bring me back to normal. But I did it! 

Breakfast at last. Alone, but with a candle (a real one, stashed just for just such a moment). 

I know, I know, I'm polluting my lungs. Give me a break -- small steps, but also small pleasures! The house is empty and lonely without Ed. The candle is a tiny boost to the otherwise too quiet farmhouse.

And speaking of Ed -- we're still waffling about whether to treat him for his Covid. I would say the guy has a moderate case of it. If it doesn't get worse, he'll be fine. But how can you predict what tomorrow will bring? I leave the decision to him for now. Being very drug-averse, he of course chooses to hold off. We'll see if that ends up being a wise choice!

 

In the late morning I Zoom with my two friends who live in warmer climates (one in Florida though she is currently in D.C., one in New Mexico). Am I jealous? Not really. I don't mind the cold too much and in general, I like winter. But do ask me again at the end of March, when I've had enough of it! [I do mind the absence of snow. Looking ahead, I see not a flake in sight, for the next two weeks.]

And in between everything, I check in with the sick guy who, as is his habit at times of illness, sleeps. A lot. I called him maybe half a dozen times today and each time I woke him up. Quite impressive. When I'm sick, sleep can be elusive. 

 

In the evening I cook up a split pea and lentil soup. to keep on hand during these cold days.

As for movie watching -- of the solo kind, without my buddy on the couch -- well, after an unsuccessful evening yesterday, when I thought I'd watch Pride and Prejudice, but instead left PBS on, so that I was bored to tears by a show lauding AV trails in northern Wisconsin, I did what I would never do with Ed here -- I bought a movie online. Anora. It cost me twice the price of a theater viewing, so yes, there was waste and I feel bad about that, but there is no way you could drag me out to the movies in this weather when, for just a couple of dollars more, I can stream something to my home couch. A stripper falls for a Russian oligarch in Brighton Beach, NY? Sounds good to me!

 

Much later: a two and a half hour movie. Have you seen it? I haven't a clue as to how to even think about it. I know it's an award contender for the Globes and likely for an Oscar. It already won the Palme d'Or at Cannes and Best Picture in December at the LA Film Critics Awards. And still, I neither liked it, nor didn't like it, which is strange because people have very strong opinions, both about the story line and the characters in it. I wont ruin it for you if you're still thinking of giving it a go, but I will say this: I have never kept the volume at such a low level in any of my movie viewing, ever. Oh, and another comment: is the idea of a movie with a happy ending a thing of the past? Okay, I'm saying too much. 

To a healthier and more upbeat tomorrow! 

with love...

first, twenty-first, and it continues...

Early this morning, Ed came upstairs (after a night of working and dozing on the couch), announcing that he has a raspy throat. Whoa, stop right there! I'm thinking: he couldn't have Covid. No one else is sick or at least testing positive. And the guy never goes anywhere or sees anyone. Sure, once last week, at the dentist's. And once to sell the truck to the happy buyer. But that's it. He can't have Covid. Indeed, he has yet to fall sick with it, ever. 

Still... Ed, maybe you should test for Covid. And there you have it -- he's positive. Strongly positive. What the heck??  

Since I've had Covid twice, we have a plan in place that we'd implemented in the past: he moves to the sheep shed. Only this time, he's the one who is the pariah in the household, poor guy.

We discuss his taking Paxlovid. I direct him to call the clinic, where they tell him that as of January 1st, it's going to cost him upwards of $800. But! There's a special program for eligible Covid cases. He's not especially vulnerable (except for his age), but he dutifully runs through the eligibility criteria with the nurse. Bingo! He qualifies!

Except that he then reads (almost) everything that has ever been written on the subject and decides even as a freebe, he doesn't need it or want it. I don't blame him. We are super vaccinated and his symptoms are mild.

Okay, that's taken care of.

I'm thinking -- maybe I have a-symptomatic Covid? I should test. 

Nope, negative. Still, I spent nearly every minute of the day with him yesterday. What are the chances that I wont get it? I talk to my daughter and we shuffle around the weekend plans. 

And I go for a walk. It's super cold, but it will get colder. Clearing the mind at a brisk pace is a great idea. 

(hey, I'm alone too!)

 

I return, I eat breakfast. Still healthy! But alone.

Though not for long: I have a lunch date -- with these happy kids...

... and their parents.

(cupcakes for dessert)

This is when I really start to appreciate the incredible luck we've had this season. If we had to deal with Covid, there is no better time for it: past holidays, past even my New Year's Day with him, not during travel. A time where clearing the weekend of contact is easy. True, Snowdrop has a birthday imminently, but she has a kid party at a swimming pool on one weekend day (where I definitely was NOT going to make an appearance!), and a Shakespeare party celebrating the Twelfth Night on the other (you know -- it's the Bard's play and it will be on the twelfth night). We can have a family birthday celebration next week. So many lucky breaks!

Which reminds me -- I read an article this afternoon in the Wired with the delicious title -- How Do You Live a Happier Life? Notice What Was There All Along. Somewhat predictably, the author tells you to rush through the bad stuff and reacquaint yourself with all the good things in your life. Here's an interesting snippet from the article:

Imagine walking into a coffee shop. At first the aroma of freshly brewed coffee is salient, but after about 20 minutes, you can no longer smell it. Your olfactory neurons stop responding—they habituate. And just as you become accustomed to the scent of coffee, you may also become used to more complex aspects of your life.

The challenge then is to regain sensitivity, both to the great things in life, so we can feel the joy, and to the terrible things we stopped noticing that we could potentially change if we try. So, how do we dishabituate?

The idea here is to teach yourself to pay attention to the aromatic coffee again!  And reshuffle things a bit, getting rid of at least some of the unpleasantness in your everyday. [I find that this second charge is significantly harder to do. Most of us know where the stressors are and most of us cannot do much about them without some risk to the delicate balance in our lives. Still, even dumping just one source of anxiety may be worth a try.]

 

After the lunch en famille, I go grocery shopping. I want to stock up, in case I get sick. I think about being extra polite and good to those in my orbit. Not so easy when one person pushes, another snarls, a third budges the line. Have we let go of our 2025 resolves already?? There are a lot of grumpy people out there! Maybe some of them would buy into this -- Andy Borowitz's satirical piece in my Inbox today:

...On Wednesday, the year 2025 was cancelled  by popular demand. 

There was widespread support for this... One day in, it's clear that 2025 was a terrible idea. Let's just move on to 2026 and see if that's any better.

Of course, you cannot tell why someone may have had a rough start to the year, to the day, to the hour. Why they may feel compelled to snarl at you and tell you that you're in the wrong line.  It's easy to stay cheerful if you just finished the best holiday season ever. Who am I to demand kindness from someone who perhaps had the worst December imaginable! Well, at least I didn't snarl back! Little things.

 

And now for my other notation in the Title line of Ocean: the twenty-first? The twenty-first what?

As it happens, it is the 21st Anniversary of Ocean. Twenty-one years of daily blogging. Even I think that's a lot of blogging! It takes a lot of chutzpah (defined: cheek, or gall) to think that you have something worth saying to a general audience every single day of your life!

But in truth, that's not how it works: I'm a great example of how you can be not outstanding (except in the fact that I persevere for all these years...), not at the top of any heap, not admirable, perhaps not even interesting and certainly not spectacular and yet... you keep at it. Because it is in your soul to write, to describe life as you know it. To illustrate it even! To keep at it, despite the eye rolls, the head shakes, the buts and whatifs.

I could not do this without the people in my life who accept the premise that I want to write about real events in my days and who let me include them in my story, because well, they are in many ways my life. Ed, for sure. The young families most definitely. My friends who do not clobber me when I bring a camera to our coffee date or trip or adventure. And of course those of you who write to me, especially when something that I say hits a sweet note for you. You are all the best and I can never thank you enough for making this ongoing project viable for me, and for those who read Ocean.

I love you all.

And now to a solo supper. Maybe a movie that Ed would never agree to watch? Is there one out there? I'm on it!

New Year's Day

Good morning, 2025!

A good, lazy morning for us: we stay under the quilt, Ed brings up the news article with pictures of New Year's Eve around the world and we try to guess where they're from. Paris, London, New York, Sydney -- those are easy! Bangkok, Damascus -- those were a little harder. It seems that much of the world pops fireworks on the coming of the New Year. We don't do that here, in the U.S. and I'm glad.

Good morning cold and crusty farmette lands. We wont be seeing temperatures above freezing for the next several weeks (if not longer). Again, I'm glad. Our lands need the deep freeze for any number of reasons. And we have a good furnace and wonderful quilts in the home.

We will need some motivation to get out more, especially on cloudy days like this one, but hey! What are New Year's resolves for if not for this? And loathe that I am to give advice on how to go about your life, I will offer this one once again: aim small for the New Year. Especially if you are older (like us!) -- you know what you're capable of accomplishing. Stick with the possible! Here, I'm offering you a humor piece from the New Yorker today:

New Year's Resolutions for an Anteater: That's right, you guessed it, I'm gonna eat a shit ton more ants.

Breakfast. Here's where we send you our warmest heartfelt wishes for a good 2025.

I spend a couple of hours in Poland with Bee (over Zoom).  We think ahead, we think back. I'm feeling grateful that we can still think (and plan) ahead, albeit just a little bit tentatively!

Lunch? I skip the cookie today. Little things, people! Little things!

[Speaking of little things, may I put in a plug for small succulents for your windowsill? So pretty, even in the dead of winter!]

Ed reads me most popular names for children born in 2024 in Madison: Lainey (eleven in just one hospital!) and Emma, Theodore and Henry and Leo and Oliver (there is a tie in boys' names). All those names are comfortable, familiar to me. Out of curiosity, I look up commonly chosen Polish names from 2024: Nikodem and Antoni for boys, Zofia and Zuzanna for girls. That's a bit of a shocker. First of all, I've never heard of anyone named Nikodem and indeed, it doesn't even sound Polish to me. Secondly -- I always thought Zuzanna was a rarely used name. Well might I think this -- I have a daughter with that name. How styles and fads come and go! A hundred years ago, it appears that Robert and Mary were the most common American names. Who even names their child Mary anymore?

We go for a walk. No hesitation about heading out. It's the New Year! Nothing original -- just to our regular old park, which doesn't even look grand on this cold January day. (And when the wind picks up, it is cold!) But, the trees stand tall, sheltering us from at least some of the wind, the air feels brisk and we walk, content. 

(Checking in on the half sunken ice hut -- not surprisingly, they haven't been able to drag it our and they surely wont be able to do it now.)

(on our way back...)

For supper we eat leftovers. There are only seven shrimp left from yesterday's seafood platter, But I put together a big salad, with added carrots, spinach, radishes, cucumber, avocado and asparagus, and we've got ourselves a feast! And an easy clean up. We need to go easy on ourselves in 2025, remember?

 

We consider our viewing options. No more holiday searches. We're back to random online lists and friend suggestions. But why oh why did we pick A Call to Spy (a true story about women enlisted as spies for Britain during World War II) on this pleasantly quiet, calm day? What's worse, somewhere toward the end, when everything is going amuck for all the good people, I say to Ed -- we've seen this movie before, haven't we? Yep. 

Honestly! Horror, on repeat. Well, may it serve as a reminder of how little we have to complain about in our lives.

As for cheerful movies -- we will do better tomorrow! (she said, without much conviction)

 

But let me at least end this post on a cheerful note -- I heard on PBS news today that for every minute you exercise, you gain five extra minutes of life. I repeated this to Ed who then asks -- so... if I exercise all the time I'll live forever, right? Ha! Ed's comment notwithstanding, think of it -- if, having just read this, you get up now and exercise for a minute, I will have contributed to your longer life! Go for it!

Or not. But do have a safe and peaceful 2025!

with so much love...

December New Year's Eve

Once again, I can report a terrible (at the same time that it was good) movie viewing situation last night. Escape from Pretoria. Predictably, it was terrifying. Three anti-apartheid activists, planning an escape from prison in Pretoria. Based on a true story. Did they make it?? Listen, if I had to white knuckle my way through that film, then you do too! I'm not going to spoil it for you! Suffice it to say that many things do not go according to plan, causing panic in both the escapees and me!

Tonight, we are definitely going easy on the drama. After all, it's New Year's Eve.

*     *     *

New Year's Eve.

A dusting of morning snow. Not much, but very pretty nonetheless!

(looks like the chickens are having a meeting)

(just a touch of snow...)

We finish the leftover baked goods for breakfast. Clean the kitchen of old stuff. Isn't that what you're supposed to do on the last day of the year? To start with a clean slate tomorrow?

*     *     * 

I pause for a few minutes to read the paper. Not necessarily the serious stuff. There's an article about the proliferation of great ethnic restaurants in big cities all over the world. Nothing new in this piece and I don't necessarily agree with all the points the author makes, but still, I like thinking and learning about good food so I'm glad I read it. Then I get to the comments section. OMG. So harsh! Criticism abounds! Privileged! Elitist! Behind the times! Insensitive! Stay home and eat brats! On and on. I say to Ed -- we are such a confused nation. We hate wealth. We idolize superstar athletes. We aspire to wealth. We hate other people's riches. We love some people's riches. We hate taxes. We hate the government. We hate capitalism. We hate socialism. We hate other people's hobbies and interests. We disparage their views. And it all comes out in a silly article about the proliferation of ethnic cuisine in big cities worldwide.

Ed always laughs when I groan at the animosity in the reactions to writing about something that is innocuous and maybe a little esoteric. He tells me -- in fermenting chaos, we come to new ideas. You know what Churchill said -- Americans can always be trusted to do the right thing, once they have tried everything else. [There is no documentation that Churchill actually said that, but the sentiment isn't out of line with his views, which essentially were full of admiration for the American way of going about life.]

Fine, but I'll never understand why people read stuff that riles them up this much. If you dont like articles about food and travel, why bother reading them? I'm not a fan of team sports. Believe me, I spend zero time thinking or reading about who won where and for what reason. Or perhaps Ed is right? Perhaps I should engage more with stuff that bores me? Perhaps I'm not contributing enough to the ferment out there?

*     *     *

It is time to take down the tree. I love it so much and I have loved everything that accompanied it this year, but it's been up since December 1st and tomorrow we start in on January. 

I will miss it, that's for sure.

But so long as it is there, I will be stuck in a holiday mood. Time to say good bye and move on.

*     *     *

We go for a walk along a Nature Conservancy trail. 

 

 

It's quiet and beautiful. A little wild, a little muddy but nonetheless exquisitely beautiful. Not unlike the year gone by, huh?

(you can tell how the wind blew last night...)

(watching to make sure we don't invade her field...)

*     *     *

I prepare a meal for the young family. It's a tradition: pasta with sea food in a white wine sauce. In addition to the shrimp, fish and scallops, I throw in two small lobster tails split into 4 pieces. For the grownups. Honestly, two of the three young eaters are just in it for the spaghetti. 

 

 

[While fixing it, I put on, at long last, Love Actually -- it's leaving Prime streaming at midnight! There isn't a sweeter, goofier, holiday compilation of love stories in film anywhere!]

Here they come! The gang, bringing in the tail end of 2024!

(hats and noisemakers for all)

(they're dressed up because they've just come from a wedding)

(well, not everyone's dressed up!)

(dinner)

(Ed is out tending to the chickens so I do a timed release...)

Happy New Year!

*     *     *

In the late evening, Ed and I turn on the TV. No movie search tonight. Our track record hasn't been too cheerful in that department. Instead, we turn on the most recent episode of Just a Few Acres -- a report on the farming activities of a cattle and chicken farmer in upstate New York. It is about as low key as you can get: sometimes the episodes are about nothing more than plowing a field or repairing a tractor. Today's was about the local farmers market.

Low key endings set the stage for wonderful new starts, dont you think? As you know, I don't set myself up for failure in the New Year. I dont aim big, I don't resolve to change much. Tweaks here and there. More walks, more oatmeal for breakfast! Listen, learn, stay happy, because, well, it rubs off on others. I'm thrilled to have made it to 2025 and I'm so grateful to have so many good people in my life.

It's such a nice number. 2025. I hope it's good year for all of you. Be good to yourselves and kind to those around you. Happy, happy New Year!

With so much love...

December loose ends

Well, last night's movie was even more disturbing than the previous one. Ashes in the Snow -- about Lithuanians being sent to Siberia at the start of World War II for simply being engaged in the arts and sciences and making statements in opposition to Stalin and his rule. At least in the previous movie seven people escaped and three actually made it on foot all the way to India. In this one? There was no escape.

Why do we watch these movies? I think Ed and I choose them for different reasons: I feel that the horrors of World War II as played out in Europe and especially in Poland, belong to my past, even though I was a postwar child. I go back to it because I'm rooted in that era, on that soil. Ed has a more intellectual curiosity about the war. And so when we find a new war themed movie, we tend to watch it, no matter how depressing it may be.

Still, did we really need to pull out a movie about so much suffering in this beautiful, spirited, joyful month? Well, I suppose life requires a balance -- of the tough stuff, to make you that much more grateful for the good in your days.  But I swear, tonight we'll find something more cheerful! Maybe.

It is sunny outside. Just above freezing. About as good as you're going to get in December (well, for us, a snowfall would be even better!).

 

 

 

(hens beg to differ: for them, a snowless winter is a happy winter)

We eat breakfast...

And then Ed loses himself to a zoom call. That's fine, but the window for a deliciously bright and sunny walk is rapidly closing. My big task for this day is to grocery shop for the two family dinners I need to prepare this week and... well, to restock the fridge for the New Year! So long as I'm in Madison to shop, I may as well stop by a park that's very close to my store of choice. Owen Woods -- the conservation park that abuts the neighborhood where I used to live when my girls were small.

It offers a lovely half hour loop (that you can actually stretch out a bit if you want more walking minutes), with both a forest to inspire you and a prairie that at least in late summer, is quite pretty.

And it has hills, so you can patch yourself on the back for doing your movement bit for the day.

Grocery shopping is also a pleasure: I dont need a lot of food -- our pantry is not bare, not by a long shot. I take my time with it. And I think about Jimmy Carter, because my car radio was full of stories about him. (I didn't vote for him: though I lived in Chicago the year he ran for office, I did not know that I was legally entitled to vote.)

I think about his ethic -- his stewardship, his work to eradicate poverty and, significantly, disease.  You've heard about it all,  I'm sure. I haven't read his biography, but it seems obvious that much of his work was prompted by choices made and beliefs adhered to for the better part of his life. As I walked the aisles of the grocery store, I thought about how so many of us view the New Year as a time to make resolutions. They're usually good ones, concentrating on self improvement, on doing better across different domains. But of course, we can't all be Jimmy Carters, eradicating disease and building houses for the homeless. Nonetheless, we do have so many opportunities to do small stuff! On my walk in that store today, it struck me that I had at least ten encounters with store workers or shoppers and each one offered a chance to say or do something that would maybe sound a little positive, appreciative, helpful. I thought -- maybe we should not try so hard for the big stuff, which usually fizzles by around January 6th. But wouldn't it be grand if we all did lots of small stuff? For each other? For people, for the animals in our midst (I hereby promise I will cut back on calling the obsequious cat at the farmette "you dumb cat!")? Wouldn't that be just fabulous? 

Of course, we all tend to think of ourselves as being good and having kind hearts and great intentions. It's all those mean others who spoil the game and poison our world. But even if we do pat ourselves on the back occasionally (and why not... life is tough and most people do try to make something of it for themselves, for their loved ones), if we could only clean up our act just a little bit more, a few nice words here and there, a smile, a door held open, a note written on the spur of the moment to someone who surely would like to hear from us (maybe!)... 

Those are my thoughts on the day before the day before the New Year. Now, if you'll excuse me -- I want to do a quick search for tonight's movie. A happy one for a change, maybe? How about that for a good idea?!

In the meantime, at home, the tree still stands. 

with love...

December decompress

Wait, what just happened here?? Falshing images of the month gone by: a birthday, Nutcrackers, performances. Lists, long lists -- things to get, to do, to make, to cook. To wrap! Tree's up! Clasen's Bakery trips. Madison Sourdough Bakery trips. Batch Bakery trips. A playlist of 168 holiday songs, replayed many times. Eve, already?? The first of three family dinners to cook! Day, so soon?? Gift exchange, roasted bird in the oven. Buche de Noel! Day number two, with the arriving Chicago group! Gifts, food at a long table. Then came a movie and pizza at flashy Lucille's. And of course brunch on Saturday. Followed by the Estonian dinner. And a partridge in a pear tree! All in the space of less than a month. However did we, did I manage to do it all? How perfectly wonderful to have had, for the most part, good health throughout, so that we could group and regroup. And play and eat and talk. Christmas is the time of hanging out together. And we did. Lots. And now I'm reeling with it all, at the same time that I begin to unwind. Not totally -- I have a NY Eve dinner to prepare and, in the same week, another birthday dinner to prepare, and a week later, another birthday to travel to. But the heady rush of holiday happenings is behind me.

Typically, I want to take down the tree soon after. I have never had it up into the New Year. But this year I hesitate. It's still fresh! I still catch a whiff of it as I walk up the stairs in the evening. It still delights me every time I look up. So, not today. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.

It's a mildly cold day. No sunshine. 

Breakfast of leftovers. Ed joins me, but then a buyer shows up to purchase his old old truck (the 1992 pickup that I grew to dislike so much) and so he is out to conduct that transaction. Dance takes his place.

He comes back somewhat depleted (despite the fact that he got his asking price for it -- $1000). I ask him -- are you sad to see it go??

I guess I am. It was a nice truck. Quick, do me a favor before he drives off with it! Through the window, take a picture!

(It looks much better in pictures than in real life!)

Whaaaat? A sentimental side to Ed?  My love, you dont even hang onto photos of me! You want a commemorative photo of your old pickup?? 

I just wanted you to take it. We don't need to do anything with it.

Oh, the sentimentality of older age! It even hits a guy like Ed!

We take a short walk in our park. Not because either of us wants to, but because we know what season we're dealing with here. Next week may be bitter cold. Seize the milder moment to be outside!

The lake has heaved back down to a fragile ice cover and there are no fisher people on it today. We spot one sole person trapsing all around what appears to be a half-sunken,  overturned ice hut.

We ask the ranger (who just happens to be nearby) if that really is a half sunken house.

Yep. They have thirty days to remove it or else they get fined.

But how can they do that? The ice is not safe now, and when it freezes over, it'll be impossible to extricate anything from it.

These guys really push the limit out on the ice. He should have known better. We know him -- he's been fishing for a long time. 

But what if the ice cracks and he falls in?

It's not too deep down there. Maybe up to his chest.

He's not getting a lot of sympathy from the park rangers, that's for sure!

 

In the late afternoon, I go to my daughter's house to help take down their tree. She hates that project so much that it stirs up my empathy juices and I'm always there to wrap tiny ornaments (all three kids take down the ornaments and hand them to me), then help sweep up the mess that is left behind, as they drag the tree to the curb.

Well done, team! 

I linger for just a while. My daughter tells me what I already know -- this really has been our finest Christmas ever. Is it that we're all maturing into the love of all that this holiday gives us? Or that the kids are nearly all at the age when Christmas delights them in the best of ways? Hard to say. Maybe it's that the stars were aligned...

I drive home smiling. 

And yes, Ed and I search once again for that movie that will transport us to some new level of wonderfulness (yesterday's was about an escape from the Soviet Gulag. Now how delightful was that going to be?!). I'll let you know tomorrow if we landed a good one. I doubt it and of course, it doesn't matter one bit.

 (farmhouse tree: still up!)

 

with love...

December joy

Heads up: the post will be about joy. The kind where stars are aligned to bring to your home people whom you love more than you could ever say, so that you can put foods on the table for them, and then sit back and listen as the grown folk exchange stories and young folk put on plays for you and it all feel so wonderful that for these hours, everything else is forgotten, put aside -- all you have is the joy of being together in this way. Nowhere special, nothing unusual on the table, but still, every minute is about as grand as life can get.

And you have to wonder -- do the young people in your midst realize that this is it -- that in this nest of comfort and love and support, the greatest pleasures lie? I know everyone likes getting together, over favorite foods and in warm and cozy spaces, with family, but I sometimes wonder -- do young ones have that same feeling of intense pleasure in just this sort of day?

Maybe. Though I dare say, basking in the joy of a family moment is really something that grows within you more as you get older. Each year, you come to love small pleasures more and more. And the family gatherings? They are your your cream, your utter delight.

Morning: I keep a todo list these days, because otherwise I may forget, say, the pears that should be part of the fruit plate. I look at it quickly, and then head out. Animals first of course.

Then a quick drive to Madison Sourdough where I am greeted by the guy who always puts together my pre-orders. I get a deep satisfaction from knowing that I am greeted by name here! A sign that I have made it in life -- to be a familiar face to the best bread bakers in town!

Back at the farmhouse, I start assembling the plates of food. The young families are all coming for brunch (except one son-in-law for reason that will be obvious later) and as you know, I love fixing brunch foods for them. It used to be that I would be ambitious with the cooked dish: special frittatas, shakshukas, quiches, baked by me cakes, or muffins. I've learned to do less of that when the kids are this age. My big warm dish is nothing more than scrambled eggs with bacon. Everything else simply needs to be arranged. The meats platter -- turkey, salami, cured salmon, and cheeses. The veggie platter -- cucumbers, tomatoes, avocado. The fruits platter -- pears, berries and luxuriously this month -- cherries. And the best -- the baked goods platter, with accumulated treats from the holidays and added fresh breads to it so that I have croissants, a baguette, poppy seed cake, a nut roll, the holiday pannetone, and an apple tarte tatin, with a few gingerbread cookies thrown in. I mean, everyone finds something to love. 

And someone wants to start in right away!

The cousins plunge into a project: lately they've taken to writing and putting on a play. We get one in the morning, then again a second one in the afternoon. There's a speaking part for everyone, no matter the age.

(the writing of it...)

(and the grand finale...)

Okay, time to eat.

(mmm, good!)

And let me end our morning brunch gathering with this -- a photo that I just have to take of the five-some.

What? Shocking news! Grandma wants to take a photo of us!

 

Fine! Happy to oblige!

Oh, my sweet, sweet partners in crime!!

They leave in the early afternoon and I have a short window in which to tidy up the house and, too, to do something for Ed. For me too: a brief walk in our local park. Call it a walk of gratitude. I take in many deep breaths, exhaling, thankful and happy. So much can go wrong in life and yet here we all are, with food on the table and joyful, healthy kids at our feet. And the forest there, waiting for our next walk and the one after...

We meet up again at my daughter's house. There is a lovely tradition in place whereby my son-in-law prepares for all of us a traditional Estonian Christmas meal. (He is in part of Estonian heritage and though none of these foods are ones he grew up with, still, it is something we now love to share with him. A roast pork, sauerkraut, potato pancakes. He cooks, the kids put on their second play...

We eat (accompanied by Finnish beer: think notes of juniper berries!)...

(the chef humbly accepts our gratitude...)

And now it's way past the kids' bedtime. One last picture. Of all of them. To bookmark this most incredibly beautiful holidays season. 

How I love each and every one of those guys! No, really, it does not get any better than this.

With ever the calm and patient Ed now, at the farmhouse, totally content, watching yet another horribly dramatic movie, because, well, it's just a little funny that we cannot find a perfect one this year! In this too there is joy.

and so much love...