The cold crisp morning air battled against my warmth. It pushed at my finger tips, my nose and my cheeks, trying it's best to get in. But it wasn't that kind of morning. The frost wasn't heavy on the ground, instead it glittered on the edges of the plants, sparkling in the sun. There was more in the air than the cold. It was as if hope, spring, and energy were flitting about on each little ray of sunshine. I could see it in the small buds on the tips of the branches, in the early spring flowers that opened in the protective well of the trees. The protective cases were starting to split open and show tiny little hints of the leaves unfurling. Each step along the path at the river's edge that lead me further had another small window into the coming season. The dog that went with me had his nose to the ground trying to take in each sense. We've both traveled this path numerous times a month and yet there seems to always be something new, something to discover. For him it is in the smells, mine in sight and I think I mirrored his discovery with my own. We wandered and I stopped. The robin in the path was the first of the season for me. The dog busy with an intriguing clump of grass and I watched quietly as the robin, hopped and flew down the path busy looking and hunting for it's food, skittish because we were there. Finally the dog picked up his head noticing the bird for the first time and took a few rolling steps towards the bird before it took flight into the brambles near by. He searched the area where he had seen the bird, learning it's smell, logging it for later. I stepped off the path, drawn towards the light from the distant sun which hadn't yet warmed the air. The branches and buds with the ice crystals glowed brilliantly as if tiny little fairy lights were turned on outlining the tree. We continued on our our way towards our spot at the river bend that gently sloped down towards the water's edge. The spot that the trees hung low to the water and created another world that moved to a rhythm slower than the one I am used to. It was lazy even in the winter, gentle and yet all around you could see where it had not been so gentle for a bit. The way the dried grass hung from branches over my head where they had been caught and twined around the branches when the river flowed angry and swift, spilling over into the path that I wandered. This morning though it was lazy again. The dog explored every bit of this little sand bar at the bend. I watched and waited, listening. The snow geese passed overhead, a mallard duck skimmed just above the surface of the river flying quickly upstream. The juvenile eagle in the tall cottonwood overhead watched like myself the comings and goings of the river. A final swim by the dog and more sniffing, a little rolling and it was time to head back to the car. He wanted to continue on down the path, I though, know his limit and it was time to head back. He drug his feet not wanting to return the way we came. He had already sniffed there and yet there are always new smells, new sights with looking at it from another direction. As we were walking, I started noticing the sounds growing louder. The caphony of crows announcing our presence to the forest community. The small sparrows flitting from branch to branch singing and the wood pecker knocking on the trunks became the music of the morning, harmonizing perfectly. I just wanted to stop, close my eyes, take a deep breath, and the spell was broken by another person and his dogs venturing out to explore this magic just like me. We crossed paths, said hello, going our separate ways. I tried to find that magic again but it had slipped away as quickly as it had come, still there were pockets that continued to glimmer gently as we wandered back.

 I place the nuts in the pan to toast and take out the butter to soften.  My thoughts drift to the child across the country at his first duty station. He celebrated thanksgiving while in bootcamp and Christmas alone in barracks. I think it's harder for a mother to bare than an almost grown and flown young son though.  I mull over how I have felt alone on a holiday meant for couples as eggs and sugar mix with the butter.  The ground almonds are sifted with the flour and the dough is placed in the refrigerator to chill.  All through boot camp I wrote almost daily to him and to others in his unit.  I've missed the writing and the mail back.  I've been spoiled with him being able to call now that he has graduated.  The dough chilled I take the time to roll out the dough and cut them into shapes.  I think about packaging them up and shipping them off and hope that he will enjoy them and maybe share with others on shift.  A mere 7-9 minutes to bake and they are left to cool before spreading the raspberry jam and a sprinkle of powdered sugar.  As I place them gently in the bag, slipping them into the dollar store container for shipping. Slowly I walk into the post office with my package, proud of the son out on his own across country.  Nothing new to others but to me it is.  Returning home I start the process over again and this time for my children out on their own here.  

During the last regular season game, Lona was tackled while kicking the ball.  In all the years of playing soccer, this has never been a problem.  Usually, she pretty much bounces right back up but this was different. the referee immediately called for the coach and after being carried off the field, she watched the rest of the game and all the play off games from the bench. Her MRI showed a partial tear of the MCL and a full tear of the ACL.  Surgery was required but not until more of the swelling has gone down.  It took a month.  Then she needed to heal and create some scar tissue on the MCL so enters January.  A scheduled ACL repair, quick in and out procedure.  Just harvest a portion of the hamstring and pin it into the place where the ACL was located.  A little scar and a couple of entry ports.  No big deal but they discovered that she also tore her meniscus.  It needed to be trimmed and also stitched which took a bit longer.  Her first surgery and it was major and nice little scar to match mine. We brought her home and she laid on the couch for about a week.  The big thing is now physical therapy.

January and it's snowing. Not just a little bit but a lot. Well a lot for this area. I started shoveling snow and shoveled every three or four hours so that I could get to work in the morning. By 8 pm I gave up and called in saying that there was no way I could get there by 3:30. They pushed the opening time to  6 am so that two of us could get to work. In all the years that I have lived here this was the first time that I had to think about work and snow.  It was a new experience.  John on the other hand was able to work from home for a couple of days and so we took advantage of the time after his work was done to cross country ski around the soccer fields and adjoining property. Part of this was for the dog because I think he enjoys the snow more than we do. 

I don't think I made peanut butter cookies until I was an adult and had almost adult children.  I don't really know why. I remember went I was a kid we usually had marshmallow treats.  I think I ate Rice Krispies almost every morning for breakfast.  I remember when we did make cookies, it was usually chocolate chip cookies.  I loved them but hated making them.  stirring the dough with a wooden spoon was so much work.  I have no idea why we beat the butter, sugar, eggs and vanilla with a beater and then when we added flour we switched to a wooden spoon.  It seemed so hard and took forever. Licking the beaters was a treat in itself and we never thought about food poisoning from the eggs.  It was just part of making cookies.  Fast forward to me being a mom and one day I decided to just beat the flour into the sugar, egg and vanilla mix and my cookie life changed.  I never again used a wooden spoon to mix in the flour.  Then I discovered peanut butter cookies.  Oh so easy. I was given a couple of cookbooks a very long time ago that would be overlooked these days. The first one is a Betty Crocker Cookbook. The cover, if I had it was orange and in the introductory page it has this phrase: "Someone brought you a brace of pheasants, " I don't think anyone has ever brought me a brace of pheasants. The photos are from 1950 or 1960 or so the photos suggest.  Food photography has been around a long time.  It's just gotten better or maybe our sense of style has evolved.  The other cookbook is a 3 ring Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook in red and white gingham print. It's in this cookbook that I've found the peanut butter cookie recipe.  Again we can guess the date of the edition by the photos in the book. Think Mrs Doubtfire hair styles.  There is even a paragraph about food photography in it.  It is in this second book that I found the recipe for the cookies.  Oh you can find all kinds of recipes on pinterest for them with all sorts of variations but I really like this one. Besides I think it is one of two recipes that I use from the book.  I do like the inside cover which has weights and measures, emergency substitutes, ingredient equivalents and broiling timing suggestions.

1/2 cup of butter
1/2 cup peanut butter (I like the crunchy kind)
1 1/4 cups  flour
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp vanilla
extra sugar for topping

preheat oven to 37
Beat together butter, peanut butter, sugars, egg and vanilla until creamy.  Sift flour, baking soda, and baking powder and add to creamed butter mixture, mix until incorporated.  Scoop it into balls and roll it in the extra sugar.  Place on cookie sheet and make the crosshatch by pressing with a fork.  Bake at 37 for 7 to 9 minutes.  Cool on a wire baking rack.  An alternative is to make smaller balls and press a hershey kiss in the middle of them.  Chocolate and peanut butter are always a match.  I am pretty sure these only last a day in our house unless I'm taking photos and threaten my family with their life.  But even then I have to be quick, they tend to disappear before I finish taking photos.

As soon as I step out of the car I hear that undeniable screech of the eagles.. My eyes start to scan the trees for the tell tale signs of white dots among the trees and along the river bank.  This year though I was late, much later than normal. A month later. I drove up with the hope that these bird would still be around and they were just not as many.  The bridge on Mosquito Lake Road had a few but just around the corner is a great spot near a little stream that feeds into the Nooksack.  I always enjoy the outing when I can photograph and mostly watch the eagles and their telltale screech.

I always knew this day would come. Christmas morning with a missing member.  Inevitable that they grow and fly, building their nest elsewhere. Mentally I was prepared. It wasn't a surprise and yet Christmas morning there was a piece missing. He was in Maine, (l'aute cote), the other coast. 3200 hundred miles away Since we had spent a week with him, moving him from Basic to his first station I hadn't prepared any presents to ship out. While we were touring the East Coast, Lona was at home, busy saving Christmas for us. She shopped, wrapped presents and decorated the house. I tried to keep some of our traditions. We read the bible, but this year we read the Lego edition complete with photos. It was very enlightening and I must say entertaining. And then we opened presents.  I have to say the whole time we were on the East Coast, I was missing Lona. Christmas morning I was missing Job. Christmas has changed for us and I understand that nostalgic longing for the way things used to be. However, life is about change and growth, so I'm embracing technology that allows me to stay intouch easier and instantaneous. To enjoy the time we have. To celebrate and have traditions such as cininamon croissant rolls and stocking stuffers and coffee and Bible readings, grounds me and allows me to embrace the change. So Merry Christmas and here, here to new normal holidays.