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.
3 comments:
Beautiful pics. That last one is almost eerie, somehow. Glad you all survived intact -- I can't tell you how much easier year 2 is going to be. And at the one year mark, you have way better friends than I did! ;)
The eggshell colors are so achingly lovely. I hope the eggs made something yummy.
everytime I try to post lately, something goes wrong... the cat presses delete; the computer crashes; I forget the google password and lose my post.
Try, try, again.
These images are magical. I can smell the woodsmoke and hear the crackle of the fire in your hearth.
I wonder, do you devour UK design magazines too? Your papered parlour, with the sheepskin rug and painted ceiling, is like something out of UK Elle Decoration or Homes & Gardens.
And the eggs...! How I would love to have eaten them softly scrambled (as perfected by Escoffier and taught by Delia Smith) with smoked salmon. Mmmm.... Oh, to have such eggs! (haven't found aracuana eggs here, although they do have them in the Netherlands). What was their fate?
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