The way northerners see snow..

1/31/11

This evening’s biting wind chill makes the mid-20’s temperature feel like the teens. 

Homes take on the appearance of forts as a war rages in from the Plains.  Native northerners show no signs of concern.  They dare to live here in winter, their town snowplows on the ready. 

They don’t “batten down the hatches” like their southern counterparts who rush to acquire shovels, salt, and melting solvents.  No, they laugh in the face of winter.

Resting beneath flannel and wool blankets with visions of snowshoes and cross-country skis dancing in their heads, they sleep in cold rooms, with only the tip of a nose peeking above the quilts and comforters.

They have waited for the blizzards that have scurried off to the east coast for the last two years, snowfalls that threaten the lives of the frail and strengthen the backs of the young. 

Children have dreamt of snow days, while adults have felt mixed emotions of joy and dread associated with the magic and beauty of an excessive smattering of heavenly white precipitation.

Snow means employment and overtime, plowing, shoveling, and snowblowing, early in the morning, and later in the day.  Taking care of your driveway, parking place, and walkways, and those of your elderly neighbor, as well as the neighbor who is out of town, or home with the flu. 

Snowfall is an experience that brings people in the same neighborhood closer together, while distancing others.  It makes everyone a child for a day or two. 

Weekend wanders

1/30/11

I’ve missed writing to you the past few days, but kept busy with every day life – work, family, home, and the rare opportunity to socialize.  

For someone who is partial to nature, the idea of socializing outside of the woods can be daunting. 

On Friday night, I was out of the woods, but in a dark room with my husband Scott and a few hundred people I didn’t know. It was a kickoff party for a new business one of my employers was starting.

I wanted to meet everyone, but Scott, a self-confessed gnome, found a spot from which he didn’t vitiate all night, and I didn’t want to leave him alone.  He told me later that he was fine and that I could have mingled more, but I guess I just felt more comfortable with the buddy system of the wilderness. 

People are so different, yet so much the same, clustering in groups with those they know, occasionally breaking off from one group to light upon another -- smiling, laughing, searching for humanity -- connecting to something they share or feel they may be missing.  It was a good evening to reflect and listen, as a lady from the office shared her dreams of writing a book, and her husband shared vignettes of their life in many places.

On Saturday, I was working again – this time facilitating a birthday party for a first grader named Faith, a little girl who wanted to take her friends outdoors for a party in the woods. 

We had a campfire (in the snow), a scavenger hunt, and enough sugar to choke a horse.  

For one girl at the party, it was the first time she had ever grilled anything over a campfire and she was thrilled!  Can you imagine a 7-year-old who’d never cooked out?!  I was happy that she was able to attend. 

The rest of the children seemed to have the most fun running through the woods and pelting me -- the only adult willing to play and the biggest target in sight -- with snowballs.  I struck back, with small snowballs I’d made using the borderline-mushy snow from the last snowstorm.

At the end of the afternoon, Faith left smiling, as her friends said it was the best party they had ever attended.  (I couldn’t help but agree.) 

Now, it’s Sunday, and I’m cleaning the house and catching up with you.  I should go outside for a walk, but the sidewalks are icy and the roads are getting slick as the temperatures are dropping for the day.  Even the chickadees have disappeared from the bird feeder to find shelter for the night, as the greedy squirrel curls up in his leafy nest.

It’s supposed to snow tomorrow and I hope it does.  We really need this white blanket from the sky to protect and water the plants in the garden, add the entertainment alternatives of skiing and snowshoeing, and paint the landscape with beauty that makes the drab scenery of winter into a magical land of crystal and light.

Contemplating Peter

1/25/11

The sky is a clean canvas surrounded by dry paintbrush-like trees.  It's another winter day in a midwestern American town.  Cars fly along the road going north and south with people who seem impervious to the day and the wonders it may hold.

Another red-tailed hawk is visible in a smaller tree along this busy thoroughfare.  My thoughts wander back to a conversation at the gym where I spoke to a woman about The Tale of Peter Rabbit.  The woman I spoke with could not remember the details, so I shared how Beatrix Potter had skillfully written about the adventures of bunny who disobeyed conventional wisdom and trod in the forbidden garden of Farmer McGregor to enjoy carrots and other desirable treats while his siblings obeyed their mother.  In the end, Peter was put to bed with chamomile tea while his siblings received berries.

Was Peter like Adam and Eve, a defiant, headstrong character destined to destroy himself, or was he an independent soul, a risk taker who would go all out for an adrenalin-charged life on the edge?  I liked to think the second case, as I began to liken my career to the life of Peter Rabbit.

Contemplating a career change that would take me from working outdoors or writing about nature to working indoors and dealing with people, I wondered what Peter would do.  I imagined he would continue to push the envelope and be innovative, not compromising his adventure, but taking what he learned from the garden to other aspects of his life.

Would I be able to follow this daring fictitious role model onto the pages of my own best seller, inspiring others, and making the world a better place?  It was time to get to work and find out..

A weekend at work, followed by a misty Monday

1/22/11

This weekend I worked.  But this was not a bad thing.  In the field of outdoor recreation, it's pretty standard to work evenings, weekends, and holidays.  These are the times when people can recreate.

On Saturday, I led a Dutch oven cooking program and burned the cobbler with the help of a couple of world champion Dutch oven chefs.  Did you know that there were "world champion" Dutch oven chefs?  I was in awe of these women, the equipment they toted, and the enthusiasm they brought to this January afternoon gathering of strangers.  They had heard that someone was going to lead a Dutch oven cooking program and showed up to join the fun.

Everyone who participated in the brief outdoor cooking program got a warm bowl of peach cobbler and a smoky outfit to enjoy until the next laundry day.

1/23/11

The weather was warmer today (in the high 20s), so Ez dragged me outside to listen to the birds.  He was so excited, he could hardly contain himself.  "Come outside and listen," he insisted, as he tugged at my hand, demanding that I immediately follow.

I would be away on Sunday afternoon, just as I had been on Saturday, but working for another employer, doing the same thing.. getting people outside, burning yet another cobbler, and smelling of the smoke I had showered off the night before.

It would be a great afternoon, as my students rolled down the snow-covered hill by the pond like a grassy knoll in spring, their faces turning the color of blushing apples.  Newly fallen snow crystals glistened with rainbows, while bright sun cleansed the sky of dreary clouds.

Trees stopped shivering for a moment, as fluffy birds sang with joy.  My heart joined the chorus.

1/24/11

Mist froze on the trees leaving frost worthy of pictures, as fog enveloped the landscape around the pond.  Chain saws cut through the silence as a company contracted by the county cut trees along the road to keep them off power lines.  For hours, workers cut and shredded limbs, making a landscape that would be conducive to these above-ground links to civilization.

I wished things could be different, but knew with the high water table in the area that it would probably be impractical to bury the cables, so the power company was doing the only other thing it could do (for now) to keep the lights on.

Down the road, a red-tailed hawk sat in a small tree unfazed by the four lanes of traffic beside his meadow.  Why should I be bothered by a power line?

Sharing thoughts from the beginning of the year until now..

1/1/11 

I have been thinking about blogging for a while, but what would I write about?

Who would read it? 

Well, here goes..  Today is the first day of a new decade – a time to get going on resolutions (like being more patient with my children, de-cluttering my desk, and spending more time doing the things I love). 

I was the first one up, and decided to go for a walk.  The temperature had reached an unheard of high near 60 deg F yesterday, but I knew today would be different.  It was now a more seasonal 18 deg F and the furnace had already turned on, as a continuous wind howled around the house.  I donned layers of long johns and wool, then headed out.  It was the first day of the year, and not a time to sit around.

As I walked I wondered what I write about.  I’d made a commitment to write to you about things that inspire wonder and awe, but what was so wonderful about a cold, cloudy day?  As I continued to walk, I noticed the leaves. 

All of the snow had melted and the leaves on the ground were exposed.  Some merrily danced in the streets, clattering like so many feet at a New Year’s Eve party.  Others were beaten down by the snow and ice, stuck to the ground preparing to decay.  They had given into the discouragement of the elements.  

The pin oaks held their leaves and shivered in the wind, creating something of a sizzling sound.  They looked cold wearing their leaves, but held them stubbornly nonetheless.  Silhouettes in the landscape, locust, maple, tulip, and linden trees stood like so many models waiting for their new line of spring apparel to come in.

The pines seemed most at home, as the wind gracefully whooshed through their boughs.   I wished I could feel as comfortable.  The more I walked, the more comfortable I became, until I arrived home. 

1/2/11

Sunday – church.  Today one of my Sunday School students asked if I was paid to teach Sunday School.  “No,” I smiled and tried to bring our conversation back to God.

“Who discovered God?” she continued.  “I don’t know,” I said dumbfounded by such an astute question from a third grader.  Class was certainly not going the way I had planned, but I was interested in where the conversation would go, so my students and I kept thinking and questioning. 

The hour passed quickly, and the class found some resolution in the fact that everyone had experienced good things that they couldn’t explain, good things they that hadn’t done anything to earn or receive, but that had been bestowed on them by something greater than themselves. 

I left church wondering what would happen the rest of the day, the next day, or in the week ahead to prove that something divine was afoot.

The rest of today, I was scurrying about like a mouse processing piles of paper – writing thank you notes for holiday gifts, paying bills for my family, sending letters that should have gone out for the holidays at the beginning of January, and wondering if I could get everything done before I took off to visit loved ones abroad.

I would not be in church next week, but was certain that God would be with me, my class, and the mouse-like meadow vole that had left its footprints in the snow outside my office.

1/3/11

My friend Lena invited me to watch her receive her U.S. citizenship naturalization  papers.  It had taken ten years since she had arrived from Mexico, but now she was taking an oath to become an American. 

She along with people from 40 other countries, family, and friends waited for an hour to participate in a 30-minute ceremony which would change their lives.  The saw a video highlighting the accomplishments of other immigrants, listened to President Barach Obama deliver a videotaped speech extolling their importance as American citizens, and sung The Star-Spangled Banner.  Some of the immigrants sung along with “God Bless the USA” while others listened.  Everyone who wanted to receive his or her naturalization papers was required to say an oath indicating that they would care for the country that would be caring for them, willingly laying down the lives , if necessary to protect it.  This was not The Pledge of Allegiance, but a commitment to active citizenship –- a powerful connection to the land and its people too often taken for granted.

Segregated from friends and family on one side of the room, these soon-to-be- naturalized American citizens were a colorful array of faces filled with joy and hope for the future.  Each one proudly took turns posing in front of the American flag both before and after the ceremony, as they were now American and this was the symbol of their home, a place they had vowed to embrace and protect. 

Dispersing like grains of sand, everyone who entered moved on.  Lena and I got on the train to head back to our jobs and the every day life that whirled around them, like so many Americans, hopeful that today we could make a difference doing what we were meant to do in our own little spheres of influence.

1/5/11           

I left the US to visit family in China.  I wanted to take you on the trip (via cyberspace), but my husband Scott was worried about the laptop (our one and only portable leash) getting lost in the fray, and my family in China said that I might have limited (if any access) to the blog.

“It’s not like you’re taking a trip to Wisconsin,” said Scott.

I’ve never been outside of North America, so this is a real stretch.  27 hours with two planes and a transfer.  It doesn’t seem too bad, at first, but I lose track of time.  I didn’t get to pick up my watch before I left town, so I have no idea what time it is. A friend accompanying me on the trip from LA to Shanghai shares her watch with the hours from the western time zone.  The times and dates are changing as we pass the international date line somewhere in the ocean.

I am not going to Wisconsin.  The trip is too long and the seats in economy class are too close.  I wonder how other long-legged people are maintaining their sanity.  My petite friend offers to let me out of the imprisoning window seat.  I eagerly accept the invitation to become liberated in the aisle, pacing like a caged tiger, and wondering how many people think I’m crazy.

It is early evening when we arrive in Shanghai, I slept on the plane, but still cannot keep my eyes open during the 2 hour car ride to my family’s home.  My sister keeps jabbing me in the abdomen with her elbow to keep me awake.  She apologizes, but says I need to stay awake.

The city never ends.  High rises and lights stretch in all directions until we arrive at my family’s apartment two hours from Shanghai.

1/6/11 – 1/14/10

I wrote over 40 pages in a hard-covered journal about the journey to China.   I still need to write more.  Going to China is NOT a trip. 

1/14/11 

I came home.  Another long flight, layover, and transfer, but this time, I was home.

1/15/11

As I was doing some laundry, Ez asked me to come quickly to the back window.  He, Scott, and Lee were watching a Cooper’s hawk fly toward the yard of a distant neighbor and nab a little bird.  I missed it : (

That Cooper’s hawk likes bird feeders, as it is a source of fast food for him (or her). 

We once had a sparrow that flew into our window as it was trying to fly away from the hawk.  Looking dead, the sparrow remained motionless for quite a while, waiting for the predator to pass.  I put it in a small basket lined with a towel and called rehabilitators for advice.   Within a short time, the bird got up and flew back to join its friends who at had also managed to survive the attack.  This time the prey had prevailed!

I ramble, but the nature in my day is not over because I was headed to scout camp.  The children, adults, and I find deer and rabbit tracks in the snow, a robin’s nest, and a tree deer have used to rub the velvet covering from their antlers.

I am running on adrenalin from the trip and can readily stay up late  (without a cup of coffee or a can of Coke) with the other parents to play UNO while the kids are sleeping.

1/16/11

Ugh.  I feel like a truck rolled over my body.  I will have to write another day. 

Sorry : (

1/17/11

I’m feeling better, but don’t go to sleep until 12:30 pm.  It snowed in the morning followed by freezing rain in the afternoon.

1/18/11

Back to work and writing.   No snow day here.  The roads are clear and the animals are hungry.  The bird feeder is completely void of food. 

1/19/11

Today Lee watched hawk-like birds soar above the school parking lot during music class.  

He told another kid in the class, who just looked at him like he was from another planet.  

Birds?  Please?!  

(I wish I could have been there.  I wanted to know what kind of birds they were and what they were doing at hanging out above the parking lot of a suburban school.)  He did not know what he saw, but he was excited.  More Cooper's hawks, or were they red-tailed hawks, crows, or falcons?  It didn't matter, here was a kid who was excited about birds -- did it get any better than that?

1/20/11

I am finally posting this blog.  The weather is cold (in the 20's F), but it is expected to be colder tomorrow (in the teens).  There are plenty of tracks in the snow -- deer, dog, squirrel, human -- but few birds.  They are hiding in the thicket.  I am hiding, too, burrowing into my work like a meadow vole in a snow tunnel, and looking forward to the comfort of a warm blanket for the night.