Minimalist First Sunday in Advent Style. . .

We take a relatively understated approach to seasonal decor around Totleigh. Best to keep clutter to a minimum so that we aren't sick of Christmas by the time it actually arrives. Know what I mean?

And we have had a few inches of snow here in The Grand Duchy! The next three weeks or so will, invariably, be a bit busy as the semester winds down. However, probably like many people, I am looking very forward to Advent and the Christmas season.

In the meantime, it's back to the salt mines tomorrow (Monday) as my much missed maternal grandfather used to joke. We have not been entirely inactive since Thanksgiving Day. This year's Christmas wreaths have been hung on either side of the front door, and the icicle lights suspended from the eaves along the front of the house (our sole concession to seasonal exterior illumination). Most of the leaves have been sucked up from the lawn by now, and the snowblower even started on the first try this morning.

You know. Just to be sure it works when we actually need it. January through early March can be quite snowy here in Mid-Michigan in a good year.

On that note, and most important, the cross-country skis stand waxed and at the ready in the garage. Winter can begin in earnest.

-- Heinz-Ulrich

24+ hours of very light by steady snow yielded this delightful scene from the rear of our house this morning. Many people dislike winter and complain endlessly about it, but we look forward to and enjoy all that the season has to offer time and weather permitting. It's just one of those many small bits of joy that are all around us everyday if we bother to notice.

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Avoid Careless Chatter. . .

E specially about the personal details of our lives. There is a lot that OUGHT to be kept more private in 2022 than has become the accepted norm for many. With the conscious and intentional cultivation of classic style in mind, however, we want to avoid oversharing and keep a bit more of ourselves to ourselves. Exactly what personal information and how much of it to keep private seems to be a slippery concept though. Here’s my take based on what I was told and observed as a child and young person at home. Basically, one should keep oneself to oneself in all respects (finances, personal worth, accomplishments, politics, sex, dirty laundry, etc.). As my late father used to advise when we were very small, and I am talking preschool and kindergarten, there were particular subjects that were not discussed outside the immediate family. There is a time and place for sharing certain details of one’s life, but most of the time, those should be played very close to the chest,

Chilly Late April Wednesday Attire. . .

Y ou know, if it is going to remain this cold and blustery, I need about eight inches of snow for some more cross-country skiing. But since the white stuff is long gone, it was time to fish through the cedar closet down in Zum Stollenkeller and pull out some cold weather attire for a seasonal reboot. But I decided to forgo the usual gray herringbone jacket from J. Press (my go-to tweed sports jacket) and instead opted for this number from Hart, Schaffner, and Marx plus the tan cords that hang on the same hanger, so strenuous mental effort was not required. Pressed the shirt after tucking in the Young Master last night at 8:30, grabbed these shoes, and socks, and Bob is your mother's brother as they say. Occasionally gazing through the large library window to my immediate left this morning, and I keep hearing that old Jobim tune drift through my mind this morning (aided by the windmills), as sung by Astrud Gilberto ( together with Leonard Cohen and Paolo Conte, the musi

The Pleasaures of a Well-trained Dog. . .

A few final photographs from my visit to my sister in Washington, D.C. last week. These include one of 'Mr. Beau,' my sister's meticulously trained and truly wonderful Doberman, another of my sister, second cousin, step-father, and yours truly on the steps of the church outside Lexington, North Carolina just after our late mother's interment service, two of me solo at the National Cathedral, and a final one of my sister and me hamming it up during a long evening walk the day before I returned to Michigan. My sister routinely walks to the cathedral, about three blocks from her place, to enjoy the grounds and gardens. The Bishop's Garden, in particular, is a place she likes to sit for quiet contemplation and internal dialogues with our late maternal grandparents and mother, very much in keeping with the Episcopal side of things. Our grandfather, who was raised Methodist, became an Episcopalian when he married our grandmother. Before you ask, I am not sure tha

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