Daily Life in Winter

I enjoyed a beautiful breakfast on this wintery morning as my children slept late.

I didn't know we were supposed to get snow today. It's the soft, fluffy kind that flutters down slowly, and watching it from my windows makes me feel like I live inside a snow globe.

I'm grateful to finally be up out of the sub-zero temps.

Cash and I went for several walks on our trails over the weekend. 

It was just the two of us. My children were away at a church camp, and Micah went along to help chaperone. 

I decided I wouldn't grocery shop and just make do with what I had. Jacques Pepin calls this type of cooking Fridge Soup. I love the concept. Just check your pantry and fridge for whatever little morsels remain and see what you can come up with. 

This is what I made for myself:

We were already low on supplies going into the weekend, but I think that's what made the challenge fun. I had one old potato and a can of pinto beans in my pantry. In the fridge I found a carrot, a tiny sliver of onion, and a Tupperware of leftover chicken from when Roman had made himself quesadillas earlier in the week. A few other random little veggies were also used up. It's a great way to clean out your fridge and make sure nothing goes to waste.

I cooked this all up in a skillet using butter, olive oil, and Italian seasonings. It was hearty and delicious, and I was able to get three meals from this. Amazing how food stretches when there's only one person in the house. 

Now that the family's back home, we are spending the day resting and washing up camp laundry. I can't believe how wiped out they are. It's a mellow day here for sure, and a few have expressed their vexation with winter.

It has seemed extra brutal this year for some reason.

 There's an activity I've done with my kids here and there through the years that seems to help. When the weather becomes a burden, I will go through our books for scenes and poems that relate to the weather we're experiencing. 

Our old picture story books have a way of romanticizing any season.

Whether it's rainy illustrations for a rainy day, or snowy illustrations for a day like today, I select a sampling from our bookshelves, spread them out, and instruct the kids to fill their minds with the uplifting images and words. 

Beauty has a way of inspiring.

Even though my kids are getting older, I find this restful activity can benefit any one of any age. I enjoy viewing the colorful, wintery pages myself, so why wouldn't my kids? 

I might ask a few questions like, "Have you ever seen ice hang on tree branches like this?" or, "Should we try this recipe for winter tea and scones?" and suddenly the harsh winter doesn't seem so burdensome.

But that doesn't mean we're not wishing for an early spring!

💐

~ Courtney 

The Accidental Violinist

 It started with a request from Elsa, back in the fall, to take violin lessons. 

We had inherited a three-quarter size violin from a relative several years back. With the exception of Nola taking lessons with it for one full school year, it has pretty much lived in its case up in our attic, forgotten and forlorn, (as much of our attic dwellers tend to live.)

Hidden between a dusty box that holds an old, artificial Christmas tree, and a bin of baby clothes, the violin was retrieved, brought downstairs, and placed in the backseat of the family car, in anticipation for the first day of practice.

"Dr. _____ is a master instructor," the young man at the front desk informed me, "so he charges more than the other instructors." He slid some paperwork across the counter to me. I signed it, agreeing to the monthly payment, and slid it back to his heavily tattooed hand. His jet black hair was sloppily pulled back into a low ponytail and I realized he looked exactly like who you'd expect to be manning the desk at a music studio by day/ playing his heart out into the wee hours at a smoky pub by night.

Not wanting to send Elsa into the studio with an instructor I had not met yet, we took our seat in the waiting area, and I assured her I would go back with her to her first lesson. Only, no one came out...

"We'll wait five more minutes," I whispered, and we went back to reading our books.

When it dawned on me that her 30-minute lesson (that I had just paid good money for) had wastefully passed by as we read, I returned to my eccentric musician friend behind the desk to inquire.

"Oh!" He laughed, "yeah, that's Steve. He does this a lot. Here, I'll walk you back to his classroom." Elsa and I followed as he took us through the shop, down a hall, and deeper into the back crevices of the studio - the atmosphere growing darker the further we went. 

"Steeeve!" Our friend hollered as we approached the very last room. Popping his head into the doorway, he announced, "Your new student is here." 

What emerged from that very last classroom looked to me like a character from a timeworn novel. A disheveled man began apologizing profusely, and hastily ushering us into his room. Somewhere between accepting his apology for forgetting us, and trying to make our way in, I realized our front desk friend had vanished. Elsa and I were alone with this chatty, flighty, but cheery man.

The first thing I noticed was the room. It was tiny and dark and smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and stale garlic. Posters of Elvis hung on the wall. There were candy wrappers and half-drunk bottles of soda scattered around, and dozens of pages of sheet music strewn haphazardly all over the floor. Trying not to step on any of these items, Elsa and I took our seat.

The next thing I noticed was him. He was a tall, jittery man with unruly hair that reminded me of black and white photos I've seen of Albert Einstein. As he chatted away, hands wildly gesturing, his fiery eyes dashed from me, to Elsa, to her violin, and back to me. 

The mad scientist type, I told myself, as I tried to track with his ramblings...

All passion, no organization, my inner monologue continued...

My character assessment was correct. In the final minutes of Elsa's first lesson I observed him grab his violin from a hook on the wall and play with the skill, beauty, and talent of a genius. I also witnessed him attempt to retrieve a pen from a small drawer, yanking it with such carelessness the drawer pulled completely out, spilling its contents at our feet.

I couldn't help but like him.

As we drove to the studio the following week, I told Elsa I would be dropping her off to run a quick errand while she was in her lesson. By this point, I had considered Mr. Steve unique and a little crazy, but completely harmless. But what I didn't consider is that unconventional people like to keep you on your toes, and always seem to have fresh ideas for their next wacky move.

"Will you be playing with us today, Mom?" Mr. Steve asked me as I walked in with Elsa. A little taken aback, I stammered an awkward, "Uh... haha, no."

"Oh, yes you are. Here!" He thrust a violin toward me, "This is for you."

My errands were skipped that afternoon, and lesson number two was spent with both Elsa and I squeaking our way through Mary had a Little Lamb and Jingle Bells.

When the half-hour was over, and Elsa was packing up to leave, I thanked Mr. Steve for allowing me my first ever attempt at a stringed instrument. Handing the violin out to him, I said, "I suppose I should give it back to you now." 

He looked at me shocked. "Didn't you hear?" Then entering into some strange theatrics, he cupped his hand around his ear, "You don't hear that?" he continued, and enthusiastically glancing up at the ceiling declared, "God told me to give it to you."

"Oh!" I played along, "I am not one to argue with God." 

We went home with two violins that day.

Back at home, I inspected my new instrument closely. It was covered in dust and scratched up along the edges. I carefully wiped it with a clean, damp cloth. The following week in the studio I purchased a new block of rosin for our bows. It was there at the counter that I caught my first glimpse of the price tags on violins. With some of them being over a thousand dollars, I realized what a precious gift I had been given. I decided I would play mine every single day. 

And even though I am very much still a squeaky beginner, that is how I became the accidental violinist.

🎶

~ Courtney