We survived Christmas--barely, truth be told: survival required Valium, hours of tears and more movie time for my children than I care to admit--and have come out onto a better, other side. We are still we, which is saying something these days, and we're both trying really, really hard. I tend to blame the H (either flippantly or deeply, depending upon the circumstances) when things are rough between us, but to be fair, I also have things I need to deal with, and I am working. Enough about that, except to say, again, thank you to all my friends who've been so diligent about sending thoughts my way.
We are back in Vermont, though we go home today, roads permitting, visiting our dear, dear friends, the neatest people in the world, and basking in their warmth and kindness and really good wine. It doesn't get much better than that, except when the children go off and play Playmobil for hours without fighting or beating on each other. Or when the husbands can sit in front of the fire playing go, also for hours, and my friend and I can cook osso buco and laugh about how funny it is that twenty years into knowing one another, we've become cooking buddies. It seemed unlikely, perhaps, back in college.
It's beautiful and profoundly quiet here, and we'll be looking forward to our next visit. Meantime, some things to share, photographically speaking: the first full dozen of my eggs, gathered on Christmas day; some of those eggs broken into a bowl--the yolks, yellower than the photograph allows, are so rich, and getting bigger, it seems, as the hens mature; some of our Christmas decorations (for you, Monika!); and an image of the beautiful bare trees here in W. Rupert.
Posted by Paige at 8:29 AM