Riz au Lait and Winter

The weather outside is frightful, as the song goes.  It's down right frigid with the wind chill reaching below zero.  Icy patches glitter in the sun but refuse to melt.  The leftover snow has frozen into a white, crisp sheet.  This morning was supposed to mark the end of winter break for the sprites, but schools are closed for the next few days as we wait for the earth to warm up a bit.  I, on the other hand, had to return to reality.  University campuses rarely close for changes in the weather.  So I bundled up to leave our lovely little holiday cocoon.  My cheeks felt the sting of the wind instantly. Within a few minutes of scraping ice off of the car my fingers were hurting through my gloves.  But the cold air felt amazing in my lungs.  I took deep breaths.  Personally, I love the cold.  I feel most alive when its freezing outside.  I would trade a snowy winter day for a steamy day in the summer every time.  

I got to campus safely, despite the ice.  Walking to class was a challenge.  I only slipped once, and recovered gracefully.  Well, as gracefully as one can when falling on ice.  I started the day full of optimism.  I had the cold to push me on and the knowledge that this is my last spring semester of school.  I'm so close, I can see it.  All I have to do is survive until August and I'll finally graduate.  And it only took me ten years longer than my peers.   Not that I'm that easily distracted.  It's just that I managed to squeeze in a lot of life between starting and finishing.   The one thing standing in my way at the moment:  French.  My fourth and final semester of french.  Three semesters and still, je ne sais pas le francais bien.   It's the class I'm fearing the most right now so, of course, it's the class I began my semester with.  

We began class by interviewing a classmate and then presenting them to everyone else.  After we got through the trivial things like names, majors, and hometowns, my partner told me in halting french that she had spent her break in France.  OK, I'm jealous.  Very jealous.  She stayed with family friends and while there she fell in love with something the hostess made.  Riz au lait.  With my minimal french, I mentally translated that to rice in milk and thought, really?  With all of the other french desserts I know of, you fell in love with rice in milk.  Then she started to describe it and I thought, she means rice pudding.  When I got home, I decided to look it up.  It is, in fact, rice pudding.  Now, I've had rice pudding and it's not particularly life changing.  Maybe there's something else to the way the French make it?  Based on the recipes I looked at, it seems riz au lait is a little sweeter and thicker, more like a custard, than what I've always known as rice pudding.  But then again, looking at a bunch of different recipes, I began to consider that maybe I've just had bad rice pudding.  

Luckily, I made way too much rice for last night's dinner.  So I decided to experiment.  I didn't like any one recipe that I found so I combined a few elements from various recipes for riz au lait specifically.   And what I got was something wonderful.  It was creamy and sweet.  The rice melted into a lovely custard.   We all agreed that it was a wonderful, warm desert for a winter's night.  I will definitely be making this again.  Especially if the weather stays wonderfully cold.  I know everyone else is eager for the return of warmth, but the cold doesn't bother me, so I say let it snow.    

Riz au Lait

2 cups of cooked white rice

1 1/2 cups of almond milk

1/4 -1/3 cups sugar

1 Tbsp unsalted butter

pinch of salt

1 tsp of vanilla extract (or 1 vanilla bean split open, if you have it)

cinnamon for sprinkling 

Combine rice, almond milk, sugar, butter, salt, and vanilla on the stove top.  Cook on low heat, stirring often to prevent sticking, for 30-35 minutes, or until thick and creamy.  The rice should be soft, almost melting, not al dente, and the pudding should be neither runny nor dry.  Spoon into bowls and sprinkle with cinnamon.  Best eaten warm, but it does make a lovely cold late night snack. Optional:  a handful of raisins could be added while cooking.  Unless your children, like mine, happen to think raisins should never be mixed into anything but rather eaten alone.  

Snowy Woods

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

Poets Take the Weather So Personally

Well, we finally got our snow.  A solid snow.  Solid for the South anyway.  It started falling fast right before bedtime.  That, of course, meant that bedtime had to be delayed.  We played until we were numb and wet through.  Then we had a cup of contented cocoa before falling, each of us, into our own winter dreamland.  When we arose the world was white and calm, in a serene way that only snow can bring about.  We played until we were numb and wet through.  We crammed everything we had been longing to do into a few hours.  A snowman, a snow fort, a snowball fight, snow angels, and sledding.

Two years.  That's how long we waited for snow.  Some weeks earlier the boy had decided that if it didn't snow this year we should move to a place where winter was more predictable.  I told him that I'd take it under consideration.  Then it did snow, so there was nothing to consider.  Or so I thought.   As I sat at the window watching them play in the snow, my heart was content.   I wondered about the snow and the magic it has to calm a noisy mind.  How is it that a blanket of white can stir imaginative thoughts and clarity?

This place has not been particularly kind to me.  In fact, it's been a big bad bully who's thrown a few compliments my way to justify the meanness.  I waited for the snow.  I longed for the snow.  I needed the pure, clean, and cold to clean the slate.  It had not snowed since I separated from the porch swing.  Now with the divorce final, I needed the death of winter so that new life could grow.  (I'm a poet.  We take the weather very personally, you know.*)  I stared out at the snow and felt me heart calm.  But I also felt it begin to tug in new directions.

It's time for new direction.  I don't know where or when or how or what.  But it's time for a move.  And I don't even know if that means leaving this city.  All I know is that I need a fresh start.  Me and my three, we have endured.  It is time to settle.  I feel it in my very soul.  I need to be in place that is more predictable.  Our future is officially under consideration.

*J.D. Salinger - "Poets are always taking the weather so personally."

Wonderland Snow

On Wednesday, he stood at the back door letting the cold air flow in around him.  When I asked him what he was doing he told me that it smelled like snow was coming.  I stood beside him and took a deep breath.  He was right.  The air smelled like snow.  I asked him when he thought it would get here.  He said he thought it would be late the next night.  It's been almost two years since snow was in the air.

It rained sheets all day on Thursday.  Heavy, dark rain.  Cold and biting, it ran down the sleeves of my rain coat into my pockets.  When I got home I asked him if he still thought it would snow.  In a disappointed voice he said yes, but admitted that it wouldn't stick.  The rain was cold but the ground too damp.  He went to bed soul heavy.  He needs the snow as much as I do.

I had some late night work, so I left the blinds open and watched.  Around 10:30 it started.  Big, white squares.  I woke him gently so that he could see it.  I tried to wake the girls as well, but they were far away in Neverland or Wonderland or Oz, or some other place, far away in the imaginary depths of dreams.  So we left them to dream of snow while we let the real flakes fall on our heads until we had hair that was fairy white.
 

He walked slowly around the yard like an old man with heavy steps.  Visible breath the only clear sign of a face beneath his hood.  Even though I couldn't see him, I knew he was smiling.  Face upturned I let the coldness wash over me with the cleansing purity that only snow can bring.  Eventually our fingers were numb and our smiles frozen in place, so we met back in the doorway, watching it fall until it stopped.

Thirty minutes and it was gone.  A few mounds of frozen white remained as witness to our late night meditation.  We both knew that by morning little would remain.  We closed the door wondering if it had all been a dream.  Were we too in Wonderland?

As he started back up the stairs to bed he turned and said, if it doesn't snow here this year, let's move.  Alright, son.  And why not?  People leave for lesser reasons than snow.

All That's Left Is the Baking

I'm curled up right now in a red flannel blanket having just finished a rather large bowl of reheated spaghetti that was drenched in a thick meat sauce of serious comfort food caliber.  The kids are outside playing in the backyard breathing in crisp winter air as the wind slaps their already red, chapped cheeks.  We only just changed out of our pajamas, though I'm not really sure why.  We only changed from flannel pajama bottoms into sweat pants which we will likely go to bed in. Strike that, most of us changed out of our pajamas.  As I look out of the window now I can see that the middle sprite threw her boots on with her pajamas.   That is the kind of day we are having.  It's my favorite kind of day.

The boy crept out of his room this morning before the girls were out of bed so that he could catch them before they woke me up.  He kept them quiet so that I could sleep in this morning. It was the best Christmas gift he could have given me.  He's too good to be true some days.  He's also an old soul who can sense when it will benefit everyone for his exhausted mama to get some sleep.

I have been tired lately.  This semester has drained me.  I finished my finals and immediately felt the need to sleep for days, likely because I hadn't slept for more than a few hours a night for weeks at that point.  I question this endeavor, daily.  I know that I'm going somewhere and deep down I know that going back to school is the best choice for our long term well-being.  But some days, it just seems impossible.  I'm thirty-one with three kids. I have a job where I make less than most non-profit workers and I'm pushing myself to get this degree in three years.  I'm tired.

I need days like today.  I need a few of them, all in a row.  Days like this let my shoulders relax.  I caught up on all of my favorite blogs this morning.  And I pulled out my volume of Frost.  I needed my mind to be filled with something other than stress and worry.  My mind feels quieter and inspired.

Last night I wrapped the last of the Christmas gifts.  I kept it simple this year, but I was also intentionally thoughtful with each gift.  I think they will all be pleasantly surprised.  Other intentions were not fulfilled this year.  I didn't get more than a handful of Christmas cards mailed out.  And I didn't get gifts to all of the friends I had hoped to.  I wanted to say thank you for all of their support throughout the year.  Maybe I'll say thank you with a New Years gift instead.  I've done what I can and I'm letting go of the rest.   It is time for all to be done so that I can join the sprites in the countdown.  All that's left to do is the baking.

The scent of cinnamon and butterscotch is thick in the kitchen right now as the Christmas cookies bake.  Soon I'll call them in and we'll all sit down to dinner.  We'll light the advent candle and share stories from our lazy winter day.  My gift to myself this year is to enjoy these days.  They are short and before long they will be gone.  Three days until Christmas.   Three precious days.

Solstice

Dust of Snow

-Robert Frost

The way a crow

Shook down on me

The dust of snow

From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart 

A change of mood

And saved some part

Of a day I had rued.*

The Winter Soltice is upon us and I am grateful.  Every year I long for this date.  I love winter.  I love the quiet in the cold.  And while I know it's not snowing, I'm hoping that it soon will.  My soul needs a good snow.  A white blanket of peace fallen to the Earth is exactly what my unsettled heart needs.  Welcome winter.  As the trees sleep so shall our spirits, in reflection, as we await the spring.


* Chris had to choose a poem to memorize and recite in class this week.  This is the poem he chose.  It's one of my favorites, so I was thrilled.  Though I should say that the only reason he chose it was because it's only two stanza's long and he wanted one about snow because he is wishing for snow as much as I am.   His teacher set up the classroom like a "coffeehouse" and they all snapped after each poem.  What a cool teacher!   I really wish it wasn't completely humiliating for parents to go into a middle school classroom.  I really wanted to see him recite this.  My boy, stretching his cultural limits a little more each day!

Winter

Today is the winter solstice.  The shortest day of the year.  Today the darkness creeps in early and sends us inside to cozy fireplaces and the warmth of family. 

Winter feels right to me this year.  Winter is a season for rest and quiet.  A season to reflect on what has been and what will be.  The season to hope for the newness of spring, the sunshine of summer, and the abundance of fall.  My soul needs winter.  To let the ground rest and to prepare for new things to come in Spring.  Beautiful things.  

In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer. 

-Albert Camus 

Frozen

Our beautiful snow turned into ice overnight. The ground around us is frozen solid. But the kids refuse to be deterred from enjoying the winter weather. They had big plans for the day before breakfast was even finished cooking.

The boy took it upon himself to clear the worst parts of the ice first. Like a little man he ate his breakfast then trudged outside with a snow shovel to clear the driveway and walk. Wanting no help, he worked for an hour breaking up ice and shoveling it away. It was a big job for a boy who thinks he's a man. But the boy's persistent if nothing else. When he decided he'd done a good enough job (which was pretty good indeed), he came and got his sisters. The three took off to find the other neighborhood children and the sleds. With happy faces they went out to conquer the world of ice, a little ragamuffin army of freckle-faced light.

Falling

I sat down to write thinking surely I had something to say. I thought for certain I would write a poem of melancholy depth that would tell you how I'm feeling. But instead I restarted and scratched out more times than I can count. None of it quiet right.

The winter has turned dark and cold and I think I'm frozen. No art today. No words. All I seem to be able to do is stare out the window at the falling snow. It's fallen all day. Big, white squares falling so fast at times I grow a bit dizzy. I just can't stop staring at it, and not a single thought in my head. The boy is sitting here with me, also staring. It's oddly mesmerizing.

We built a snowman earlier. One of the neighborhood kids ran through him though and he's gone. It was kind of a mean and selfish thing to do after all of the time we put into it. Maybe we'll build another. I think we need the distraction. We're both a little lonely and grey.

Our White Christmas

Christmas morning was cold but sunny. It was actually great for taking a family walk along the creek. Well, Steven and I were the only ones walking. The girls got new scooters for Christmas and the boy got a new bike. (An adult sized bike. Oh, my. He's getting so big.) So they were riding while we were speed walking to keep up. It was the highlight of my lovely Christmas day.


But right after dinner the weather shifted. Big wet snowflakes started falling to the ground. Although it made for a pretty winter sky, we went to bed thinking it wouldn't amount to much. We awoke to a wonderful surprise. A winter wonderland! Quiet and white and peaceful. It was beautiful. We got the first white Christmas that the Queen City has seen in 40 years. It was the perfect Christmas present for us all.

Winter

A wrinkled crabbed man they picture thee,

Old Winter, with a rugged beard as grey

As the long moss upon the apple tree;

Blue-lipt, an icedrop at thy sharp blue nose

Close muffled up, and on thy dreary way

Plodding alone through sleet and drifting snows.

They should have drawn thee by the high-heapt hearth,

Old Winter! seated in thy great armed chair,

Watching the children at their Christmas mirth;

Or circled by them as thy lips declare

Some merry jest, or tale of murder dire,

Or troubled spirits that disturbs the night,

Pausing at times to rouse the mouldering fire,

Or taste the old October brown and bright.

-Winter, Robert Southey

(picture by Chris)

Today is the Winter Solstice. I love knowing that. I love each seasons change. Each just long enough to enjoy, not so long that you grow weary of it. Winter is a season most dislike. But I find great comfort in the winter. Winter is a season for savoring long, quiet stretches of just being. It's a season for a bit of solitude. Winter is the season of snow, so beautifully peaceful. Winter is the season for hot chocolate and warm fires. It's a time for huddling under blankets in the comfortable presence of someone dear. It is the season of rest. The earth goes to sleep and rejuvinates it's soul so that at Spring's arrival it can burst forth in energetic displays of color. It seems to me the human soul needs the same. I find with each new year that my melancholy spirit settles into winter especially well. A season of rest. Quiet. I do love a long stretch of quiet.

Heat is a Necessity

We've spent the last few days living like the Ingalls. Five quilts on each bed and a roaring fire in the fire place. Last Thursday we turned on the heat for the first time this season. But instead of warming us, it blew out cold air that seeped straight into our bones. No one appreciated that as much as you might think. It turns out that we would prefer the heater to be working. Especially if the weather is going to finally drop to a seasonally appropriate 30 degrees each morning.

Thankfully, we come from a family of quilters. So we piled the beds high and crawled deep beneath. Even the cat got cold and stubbornly insisted on working her way beneath one of those quilts. No matter how many times I put her out of the bed within minutes she would jump back up. I eventually gave up because it was too cold to come out from under my blankets to put her off.

We lit a fire, but the flue of our fireplace isn't built to be particularly efficient so the heat was lost in this drafty old house. Though it was a lovely sight and it did warm the living room a bit. I love a nice wood fireplace.

It's come to wearing gloves and scarves in the house. I've been very jealous of my family the last few days. They get to leave and go to other heated buildings. I'm teeth chattering cold sitting here!

Today there is an old man here tinkering with the furnace. He tried to help us out yesterday but the furnace was grumpy and wanted to hibernate a little bit longer. Today the old man is determined to wake it up. I know we will all be very grateful tonight if he can get heat flowing through this funky little cottage. Though we might keep the quilts on the beds and a fire going. Those are comforting cold weather sights that make you feel cozy deep down inside. And when it's 30 degrees outside cozy is just what we need.

Crazy Snow!

Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather. -- John Ruskin

We got more snow over the weekend. We soak it up every chance we get. (If you could see my carpets, you know that I use the word soak literally!) The South is seeing more snow than we've seen in years. Arkansas has become Narnia this winter. My sister in Dallas got eight inches last week. Apparently even Florida saw some snow! We're quiet beside ourselves down here. Poor cows are probably milked dry from all of the pre-snow runs to the grocery store. Our local store was completely out of bread the other day. Southerners don't really handle the white stuff with a sense of calm. Crazy weather! Apparently all of those global warming/odd storm predictions were right. But good or bad, our little crew is ready to enjoy whatever is thrown our way. In fact we'd like a little more please. This last bit of snow was gone far too quickly.

how cool is that piece of ice!


yes, that is all of the snow in our yard rolled up into one ball. I said we got more snow, not a lot of snow.

Snow!

We finally got some snow! I was pretty convinced that it was going to keep passing over us all winter. Late Friday night soft little flakes began to fall and by Saturday morning we had just enough to have some fun in. It's a pitiful little covering that left the grass showing through. But when you are snow deprived as we are any little bit is cause for much joy! We stayed out all day yesterday except for short hot cocoa breaks. And we were blessed with more last night. The kids haven't been indoors longer than an hour since they woke up. It's beautiful. We are drinking it in like dehydrated men in the desert who've stumbled upon water.

I love the snow. I love the quiet of it. The brightness of it. It's peace falling from heaven. I love looking out on it first thing in the morning, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Snow has a stillness. It calms my soul. It is pure satisfying entertainment for children and adults alike. I wish we saw more of it. But we will enjoy fully enjoy it while it lasts.