Unexpected finds

Look what we found!

Nothing quite like finding nature in the middle of a football stadium (that doesn't even have a grass field). Or maybe I should say nature found us--my husband scooped this no-so-little guy out of the air as it flew overhead.

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Death by Snow Day

You know how deadlines tend to cluster? No? Well mine do. And I've got a bunch coming up. So naturally last week was a complete bust in terms of getting any writing done. President's Day on Monday, sick child Tuesday-Wednesday, snow days Thursday-Friday.

Two days off of school for a whopping 6 inches of snow. Every parent I know was tearing their hair out last week. And then yesterday, the local weather people said it would snow from last night until tomorrow.

So far, not a flake. Which is a good thing. School's in session today, and I might actually have a shot at squeaking in under these deadlines. Of course the flip side is that, once again, we're going to get no snow, and we desperately need the moisture.

And my boys and I didn't get to build an igloo, which I'd really wanted to do. Because really, if there's no school due to snow, you ought to be able to build an igloo. Don't you think?

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But on the positive side of things, my article on Concussion came out in Science News for Kids. If your kids are out sledding, playing hockey, ice skating, or doing other winter sports, you might want to check it out.

How do you get work done when life gets in the way?

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Changing, growing

If you've spent any time reading this blog, you'll know I like to garden. I waited ten years to have a garden of my own (container gardening, while nice, only gets you so far). So one of the first things I did when we moved into our house last fall was to tear out the grass along our fence line and put in native grasses and perennials.

Okay, it wasn't just me. Beloved Husband and both kids helped. It was a ton of work, but well worth it, because we now have this:

The neighbors, who thought we were crazy when we started, have all commented on how much they love it. And I love that it will change as the season progresses. By mid-summer, it will have lots of yellow and orange flowers blooming, and by fall, the grasses will be tall and all shades of yellow, gold, and red, some with feathery pink seed heads.

Yesterday, I was pulling weeds (yes, I pull them by hand, more on that in a moment) to the susurrus of baby cardinals begging for food in our lilac. As long as I kept my head down, the parents were content to come and go. I also discovered a bumblebee nest behind that pinkish plant in the foreground (Penstemon, for anyone who's curious).

Weed-pulling: a back-breaking, mindless waste of time, right? Lots of people think so, but I enjoy it. (Now you know why our neighbors think we're nuts.) I like it for many reasons.

• It's hard work, but at the end of the day, I can look at the planting bed and see the results. There's very little instant gratification in writing.
• It's back-breaking, but in a different way from writing. it stretches muscles that sit for too long when I write, so in a way it's soothing. Besides, there's something satisfying about going to bed a bit sore from a hard day's work. And I sleep better.
• It's mindless, which gives my brain a break from constant focus and thought. The inability to sustain focus on something for a prolonged period of time (or the increasing difficulty in doing so as time progresses) is called directional attention fatigue, and studies show that exposure to nature is the best way to allow the brain to recoup and revitalize (source).
• It's inspirational. A good many of my magazine article and picture book ideas (the non-fiction ones) are based on things I have seen while gardening or spending time outside. Gardening is also the perfect opportunity to figure out what, exactly, that random thing that just happened in my novel really means, and how it will play out later in the story (or if I should get rid of it).

And then there are encounters like these. How can you not love seeing something like this?

eastern swallowtail butterfly

Do you garden? What do you like about it? And if not, why not?

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Traditions

Over the weekend, my boys and I made Christmas cookies. It's a tradition from my childhood, when my sister and I would head over to Grandma's house (along the river creek, near the woods) to bake at least half a dozen different kinds of cookies.

I always looked forward to the day we measured, mixed, pressed, rolled, cut out, decorated, and baked. And I always ended the day with a tummyache.

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It was a particularly poignant way to spend the weekend, because Grandma died this fall. And it struck me how powerful traditions can be.

They keep us connected to the past.

They give us a thread that connects us to the future.

They can be as simple or elaborate as we want them to be.

We can create new traditions as our lives change.

In many ways, they define us.

What are your favorite traditions?

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Scattered

These days, my mind is completely focused on either kid-related stuff (Halloween parties, costumes, conferences with teachers, costumes, book orders, costumes, fund-raisers, costumes, and pumpkin-carving; did I mention costumes?) or writing-related stuff (queries for magazine articles, tightening Thunderstruck, planning for NaNo).

Maybe focused isn't the right word. Scattered, perhaps.

To give you an idea, I was outside during the incredible northern lights display Monday night but so focused on sorting the recycling that I completely missed this:

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So today's post is short and sweet, with a bit of fun to get you ready for the weekend.



And I'm off to finish some last-minute projects before November 1!

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M is for Making the Most of the Moment

We have a limited amount of time left in Berlin. We will be moving this summer, a big, inter-continental move. It's a stressful thing, moving. Uprooting the family, removing ourselves from our home, our friends, and the lives we have made here.

It's exciting to look forward and bittersweet to look back. But what I'm trying hardest to do right now is live in the moment.

Of all the places I have lived and the many seasons I've been through (including autumn in New England), spring in Berlin tops them all. Everything is in bloom, a procession of color that started a couple of weeks ago. First the purple of the early-spring crocuses, followed quickly by the yellow of the forsythia and holly grape. And then come the pink cherry blossoms, purple lilacs and the pink and purple azaleas. The air is, quite literally, perfumed with the scent of flowers for six to eight weeks.

I am soaking up every moment of it, reveling in every breath of sweet air (when the wind doesn't blow the scent of manure from the neighboring farms), because where we're going, it won't be like this.


How do you live in the moment?

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D is for Daylight

Berlin is at 52 degrees north latitude. That's just 14 degrees south of the Arctic Circle. And it means that we go from 7 hours, 39 minutes of daylight on winter solstice to 16 hours, 50 minutes on summer solstice.

Over the course of six months, we gain over 9 hours of daylight.

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 This time of year is the best: we gain four minutes a day. So by this time next week, the day will be half an hour longer. It happens so fast, it's noticeable. Almost as if we can watch the world wake from its winter slumber.

What's your favorite thing about spring?

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Ringing in spring with prizes

It's finally spring!!!

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First a quick note: I finally realized I can't possibly keep up the Marketing Monday every single Monday. People have other things to do, and I can't push them to fit my schedule. I will, however, post them as often as I can. (Tune in next week for sure!)

And then to some overdue business: prizes for the Super-Snooper Blogfest! I apologize for the delay, but it was worth the wait.

I ended up with exactly 30 participants, which called for a second prize. Only another copy of Snoop: what your stuff says about you seemed appropriate, and Sam Gosling graciously contributed a second copy.

And guess what? He happened to come to Berlin (hence the delay in getting these out), so now THEY'RE BOTH SIGNED! How cool is that?

So this is how it worked. I wrote down the people who had participated, using their number under the Mr. Linky gadget (some people listed themselves more than once, so I used only the listing that took me to the entry). Then I used random.org's true random number generator to choose two winners.

Drum roll, please... the prizes go to:

Trisha at Word + Stuff

Teralyn at A Writer's Journey

Trisha and Teralyn, please send me an email at anpstevens [at] gmail [dot] com with your shipping address, and I'll get your prize out ASAP!

And to everyone who participated but didn't win, I wish I could send you each a copy. Thanks so much for making the blogfest such a success!

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Woodsville

Serena at I see you see is hosting the Location, Location, Location blogfest today...

Looking for cool shade in summer, brilliant folliage in fall, pines blanketed with snow in winter, and bubbling brooks in spring? Woodsville provides all of these and more. Lose yourself among the fir trees, gather hazelnuts and chestnuts, and discover clearings blooming with wildflowers of every color. Each season Woodsville bursts with life in its various forms. Come reconnect with nature!



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Autumn weather started really early here this year, back at the start of August. We've had cool temperatures, lots of rain, and very little sunshine (but today is an exception--the glare of sunlight on my computer monitor makes it doubly hard to force myself to stay inside and work).

But there's an upside.

The color of the fall foliage this year is the most intense I have ever seen (or can remember seeing, at any rate). I've been carrying a camera with me everywhere for the past week, wanting to capture the bold reds, oranges, yellows, even pinks (yes, pink leaves!). And since they make me happy, I thought I'd share them with you.

What's your favorite season? Why?

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Insomnia

Okay, summer is officially here. Like, in the 90s (30s if you're not American) here. No air conditioning, just open windows and fans to keep the air moving.  Not ideal weather for sleeping.

I've become a major insomniac of late. Partly due to the heat, partly due to the fact that I'm a light sleeper (as soon as one of the kids coughs or says something in his sleep, I'm awake), and partly due to the fact that the sun officially clears the horizon at 4:45, but dawn begins around 3. Birds don't have clocks. They don't care that it is FAR TOO EARLY to be singing (or that nesting is over and done with, therefore they have no reason to sing). There is a hint of light, so they sing. Right outside our bedroom window. Close the window... stifling air... insomnia.

My problem is that my head is full of ideas. This sounds like it should be a good thing, but all it takes is a little cough to wake me, and then CLICK the gears start to turn. It's as though my muse perches on the pillow next to my head, waiting for me to come to the surface long enough to dive in through my ear and get to work. Suddenly, my head is full of story ideas, characters (had a little girl with glasses pop up the other night), plot lines, and even what to write about in the blog.

I get up and write things down, but it doesn't help. My brain just won't shut down. Even though it means I can't write as well the next day (when it's even hotter and all I want to do is take a nap), my muse brain refuses to listen to reason.

So I comfort myself by making use of the time by playing "what if". I think up all of the crazy directions a story could go, and (for the most part) clear out the ones that just won't work. Sadly (sad because I like to sleep), I'm usually awake long enough to get to my 20th idea (thanks to Maureen Crisp for the link).

My goal is to put all of those wonderful nocturnal ideas to good use over the rest of the summer, before classes (i.e. teaching duties) resume in the fall. If only I could write as quickly as the ideas come. We shall see what comes of it.

What about you? What do you do when you can't sleep?

Springtime delights

I love springtime in Germany. The corner fruit and vegetable stands are up and many are already open. On Friday, the doorbell rang. It was a farmer, who was going house to house, selling his day's crop: spring potatoes, asparagus (the mysterious white kind that Germans prefer to green), and strawberries. What could be better than farm-fresh, locally grown produce delivered to the door?

Flowers are blooming everywhere, and the sweet scent of flowers perfumes the air (except when the wind blows, and then we smell manure from the farms outside the city). At the moment, the air is still and the smell is delightful. 

Soon pollen will coat every surface of the house, since we love having the windows open. Germans are oddly opposed to this: they have a fear of the "draft" and are quite convinced that a draft of air brings illness. They keep doors closed to reduce movement of air within the home. We, on the other hand, are quite convinced that improved air circulation has the opposite effect. Windows are wide open, doors propped, so they can't slam shut in a gust of wind. The downside is that we must deal with a perpetual coating of yellow on everything for about six weeks each spring (it doesn't matter how often I dust, the pollen is always there).

This year, the pollen will be mixed with ash from the volcanic eruption in Iceland. I found the first evidence of it this morning. The skies are oddly quiet without the sound of airplanes overhead. It is very peaceful. An unexpected side effect of earth's dynamic existence.

The thaw

Spring is really and truly on its way, now.  Yes, I realize I obsess over this, but it we endure long months with little or no sunlight here in northern Germany, and the return of light and the possibility that the world will once again be green are what bring us through the final leg of our annual journey round the sun.

The thaw has begun. The great white blanket of snow is slowly settling, hugging the earth more tightly each day, until, in places, it simply gets too close and merges with it. I glimpsed the first bare patch of earth today... not street or sidewalk, but grass... beautiful, green—if limp and waterlogged—grass.

The rest of the landscape is slowly morphing from one of white mountains and plains to one that resembles nothing so much as a beach in winter. I mentioned in a previous post that snow removal is less than stellar here in Germany. In many places, the snow was not removed at all, merely trampled down. The most common solution to the slick walkways, then, was gravel.

We received a steady supply of fresh snow this winter, starting in December and slowly accumulating over the past two months. Some weeks, we got a centimeter or two of snow each night. And after each new snowfall, a new layer of gravel was added. It was quickly hidden by the next layer of snow, so no one really knew just how much gravel had been used. Well, now we know... the sidewalks literally resemble a beach, with anywhere from one to three centimeters of gravel in some places. Melted snow pools in the footprints we leave behind, and if we didn't see cars driving by on one side and buildings on the other, it would be easy to believe we were walking along a beach on the North Sea.

To make the illusion stronger is the flotsam and jetsam now appearing amid the receding snowbanks. The skeletons of discarded Christmas trees, the remains of New Year's fireworks, and the occasional lost mitten or hat lend the scene a surreal beach-like aura... driftwood and beached jellyfish scattered across the sand.

But the thaw is here. One of the trees outside my window has responded to the slight increase in temperature by budding leaves, and I anxiously await the coming of spring in all its glory.

The song that heralds spring

I feel a return to my roots today (I used to study birds)... Today is a beautiful day: the sun is shining, and the snow is glinting like trillions of tiny diamonds. It certainly doesn't look (or feel) like spring might be around the corner, but I know it's there, lurking, waiting to spring out at us (no pun intended). I know because the birds are singing.

I have noticed a marked uptick in the amount of activity and song among our feathered friends over the past week or two. They know spring is nearly here, despite the perpetually frozen ground and utter lack of anything growing. How is it that they know?  The lengthening days.

We have finally entered that time of year when the amount of sunlight we get increases by about 4 minutes a day, which is enough that you notice it from one day to the next.  Last week, it was still dark when we got up in the morning, now it's noticeably lighter. With 4 minutes a day, we add nearly half an hour a week to our daylength, and it is this increase in photoperiod (as scientists call it) that tells the birds spring is coming.

Photoperiod is incredibly powerful in changing both physiology and behavior of all kinds of organisms. So what, exactly is going on in the birds that they are suddenly so active? It turns out that their gonads (testes and ovaries) are increasing in size, and the resulting influx of testosterone in the males is stimulating them to sing. Sounds weird, I know, but in the Northern Hemisphere, at least, that's what happens (birds in the Southern Hemisphere do not experience this). Why on earth would birds experience such a bizarre physiological change? Other organisms don't... what makes birds different? Flight and migration are two important factors.

Have you ever considered the amount of energy required to fly long distances? Yes, airplanes burn a lot of fuel, but imagine you were a bird, flying day and night to reach your overwintering site. You would need a lot of fuel to get there. And just as airlines limit the weight of your luggage to reduce the amount of fuel required for the trip, birds can reduce their weight in preparation for their journey. And so they do. As days get shorter at the end of summer, their gonads decrease in size, drastically reducing the amount of weight the bird needs to get off the ground for the trip. Those species that stick around through the cold, snowy winter undergo a similar change. If conditions aren't right for breeding, why waste energy on organs you simply cannot use?

Then comes this time of year, when the one and only consistently reliable cue that the seasons are about to change is the increase in photoperiod. Birds must be ready to breed as soon as conditions are right, so their gonads begin to grow, returning to a functional state. Gonads produce hormones, hormones stimulate physical activity and, in males, song. And we humans get to enjoy the show.

Let it snow

Well, it's been a long time, but I am finally getting back in the swing of things. A lovely trip to Greece over the holiday (more on that later), only to return to snow. Day after day of snow, which slowly accumulated to about 20 cm (8 inches for the Americans).

Fortunately, it all fell before New Year's, so the disruption was minimal. Then a week of getting around in it—they have plows here, but they don't seem to like using them much. At least not on small side streets. Our driveway, however, is visited every morning by a snow sweeper, waking us at either 3:30 am (on a weekday) or 7:00 am (on the weekends and holidays). It is, in typical German fashion, extraordinarily punctual; our early-morning notification that it snowed overnight.

Another big storm over this past weekend, with a predicted 40 cm (16 inches) that turned out, rather disappointingly, to be only 10 cm.  I love a good snow storm. The kind that requires two days of digging out, that cancels classes, keeps people home from work, and provides lots of fluff for building snowmen and making snow angels. Alas, 'twas not to be.

Given the lack of plowing and generally snow-trampled (soon to be icy) sidewalks, how, exactly do people without automobiles get around? Particularly with small children?  Strollers are not an option, although I did see one dedicated father picking up his child's stroller every now and then to get over particularly impassable sections of sidewalk. A few die-hard bikers are still riding their bikes... on the slushy streets, since the bike paths are either mounded with snow or blocked by discarded Christmas trees. Not the place for children, even in one of the bike trailers.

No, the solution is a sled. Almost all young children (ours included) travel to kindergarten/school by sled. Parents pull them along with a rope. It's a good workout (particularly when you've got two on the sled at once and you're trudging through several centimeters of snow), and the children love it, when they're not trying to jump off as the sled races along. Our youngest tends to do this; he toppled head-first into a snow-bank this morning. Fortunately the snow was still soft.

When you get there, you simply leave the sled outside, ready for the trip home. Too bad ours is standing outside the Kita (kindergarten); it would be useful for bringing home groceries!

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas

'Tis the season for the frantic... end of semester assignments to grade... final grades to submit... cakes to bake... parties to attend... cookies to bake... parties to attend... cakes and cookies to bake... more parties to attend... oh, and gifts to buy!

I used to enjoy the run-up to Christmas, but it just hasn't felt like Christmas, this year (despite four, yes four separate Christmas events at the kids' kindergarten). Or maybe I should say it didn't feel like Christmas until it started snowing the day before yesterday. I never realized how strongly snow factors into my mental image of the Christmas season, but the moment the flakes started swirling through the sky and sticking(!) to create a white blanket on the ground, I felt like Christmas was actually here (or on its way, at any rate).

Not that this year will feel very much like Christmas come next week: we'll be in Greece, sitting on the beach, in ridiculously warm weather. Coming from cold (four-season) country, that will be difficult for me. But we will be able to relax and enjoy a true vacation with my in-laws. I can't wait!  Less than 24 hours until take-off (not that I'm counting).

But this fits the season, it's my favorite carol (I know, I know, it's a total waste of electricity, but I am a sucker for Christmas lights):



Merrry Christmas to all! With luck I'll be back before the new year.