An ounce of prevention

I used to be a beekeeper. So when I learned about the 50,000 dead bumble bees in Oregon, I was disturbed. But not just because of my affinity for bees. I'm currently teaching an environmental psychology class, and we just wrapped up a unit on biopsychology and neuropsychology--the study of how internal body processes and brain function affect behavior. We specifically looked at the effect of toxins on those systems. Toxins like neonicotinoids and other pesticides.

Let's look at the big picture, shall we?

The trees in the Oregon Target parking lot were sprayed to kill off aphids, which produce a sticky substance. The trees were sprayed so that customers' cars wouldn't get drops of the sticky stuff on them. It was a purely cosmetic application of the pesticide--as opposed to applications that support food production or human health.

Tragically, those 50,000 bees likely represented over 300 colonies of bees. As Mace Vaughan of the Xerxes Society notes, "Each of those colonies could have produced multiple new queens that would have gone on to establish new colonies next year." Which means the full impact of this event will be far greater than the initial death toll.

Why should you care about a bunch of bumble bees? To start with, they're the only bee that can pollinate tomatoes. Honey bees can't do it. They're unable to shake the pollen free. But bumble bees vibrate their bodies against flowers (a process called buzz pollination), which loosens the pollen.  If you like tomatoes (and pizza and spaghetti and salsa and anything else with tomatoes in it), you need bumble bees.

Whole Foods recently made the extent of our dependence on honey bees (specifically) visual by removing all bee-pollinated items from the produce section.

 

Striking, isn't it? That's just honey bees. And that's just the produce section. The dairy section would be all but empty, because the alfalfa that farmers feed their dairy cattle is pollinated by bees. And then there are all the other foods that use bee-pollinated crops as ingredients. Honey nut cereal for breakfast? Forget the honey. And the nuts. No apple cinnamon anything, either.

So how did the event in Oregon happen, anyway? What is it about pesticides that people feel free to use them with abandon, even on things that can't harm us? How did it become the norm in our country to spray everything, just because it might have an insect on it?

God forbid a leaf might have a hole in it, particularly when Americans spend 90% of their time indoors and don't actually take a close look at said leaf.

But Americans happily fork over a monthly payment to the lawn care company to come and spray their yard. It's necessary for a healthy lawn, the company says.

Is it?

No.

According to the UNL Pesticide Education Office, those monthly contracts keep the company's income on even keel. That's all.

It's not for the good of your lawn. It's for the good of the company's bottom line.

Hmm.

Ever stop to think about what, exactly, they're putting on your yard when they come to spray? Or how it works? Let's take a look at the stuff they sprayed on the trees in Oregon.
 
Neonicotinoids act as a neurotoxin. Neurons work by opening and closing ion channels on the cell membrane. By shuttling ions (charged atoms) into and out of the cell at very high speed, neurons are able to "fire" or send signals to other neurons, muscle cells, or other parts of the body. Neonicotinoids work by holding those channels open. Ions continuously flood across the cell membrane, causing paralysis and death.

(Incidentally, black widow venom acts by causing an explosive release of neurotransmitter, which binds to ion channels, forcing them to stay open. The result is paralysis and death. Would you spray black widow venom on your yard to make it look good? I think not.)

Neonicotinoids are highly toxic and accumulate in the environment. A recent study by Dave Goulson at the University of Sussex shows that neonicotinoids have a three year half-life (that means it takes three years for half of the compound to break down). He estimates that when the compound is reapplied one year after the initial application, there is still 80% from the year before in the soil.

Bee scientists, including Marla Spivak at the University of Minnesota are calling for a change.

We need to plant pollinator gardens--everywhere. In our yards, in our cities, surrounding our farms. And those spaces must be free of pesticides. No herbicides, no insectides, no rodenticides or fungicides. All of these are toxic to the pollinators we need for our survival.

What can you do?

Join the Xerces Society's Bring Back the Pollinators Campaign: sign the pledge, then order a pollinator habitat sign to let people know what you're doing.

There is no place for cosmetic use of pesticides. Not in our lawns and gardens. Not in our cities and shopping areas.

Not any more.

Our lives quite literally depend on it.

How, then, do you prevent insect pests from destroying your garden? Biodiversity. A diverse planting attracts predatory insects that keep the pests down. It attracts birds that eat the pests. It promotes a healthy ecosystem in your yard, so that no pest species has the opportunity to reproduce to such large numbers that they can decimate your favorite plants.

And if you plant regionally native plants, you won't need to fertilize them. You'll rarely need to water them. Your garden will be both beautiful and pollinator-friendly. It will boost your immune system and lower stress.

Eliminating pesticides used for cosmetic purposes is the single easiest thing you can do to help the planet while also helping your wallet and your health.

I think it's time, don't you?

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Soothing the soul

I just placed an order for 100 trees and shrubs. Keep in mind that I don't live out in the country, not even on a small acreage. I think 100 trees might be a bit much for my family's quarter-acre property, and we're not planning to surround our house with a forest.

by Amos Oliver Doyle

Why, then, would I order so many? To start with, because I have to. It's the minimum order I can place with our natural resource district. Also because I want a nice privacy screen between my house and the neighbor who lurks in his garage smoking cigars. It would seem that he's our self-appointed neighborhood watch. While that has its benefits, I don't like that my windows are in his direct line of sight. I work at home. And every time I look out the window, he's there.

But the main reason is because I want to create a place in our yard where my kids can play, where they can explore the natural world and all it entails. Where they can pretend they're in a forest or a fort or a cave. Where they can experience nature first-hand and reap the benefits.

I'm working to create a place that will keep them, my husband, me--even that neighbor--healthy.

Because when trees die, so do people.

This article in The Atlantic describes the most recent piece of research linking trees to human health. The researchers discovered that as ash trees in the Midwest began to die by the million (thanks to an introduced pest, the emerald ash borer), more people in the areas with dying trees died of cardiovascular and lower-respiratory-tract illnesses. Now I'm not suggesting that if a tree in your neighborhood dies, so will you or one of your neighbors. But the relationship is there.

We need nature, and we are just beginning to understand the extent of our dependence. Sadly, we are dangerously close to the tipping point--the point at which we will have pushed nature beyond its ability to spring back from the punches we keep delivering.

But it's not too late. We can take small steps to help heal the natural world. Small steps to heal ourselves, as well.

My husband and I are replacing large sections of our yard with regionally-native plants. No sprays, no fertilizers, but lots of habitat for wildlife (including our boys). If the rest of the yard turns out as well as the small strip of native plants we put in last year, it will thrive even in drought. To watch something thrive when everything around it struggles? That's good for the soul.

As for the eighty-some trees and shrubs we won't use? We'll share them with others. We will happily give them away to friends and neighbors who want to add a little nature to their yard. I can only hope to find each seedling a home.

Out of curiosity, do studies like the one above make you stop to think about your relationship to nature? Why or why not?

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It lives!

Those were my husband's words when the 4YO bounded down the steps, chattering away like a happy, non-feverish child (for the first time in a couple of days--thank you flu virus, for invading our house before our vaccines could take effect).

Like a child awakening from a long, feverish delirium, the blog is making a similar comeback. It might be sluggish at first, or it might burst with energy like the 4YO. I really don't know how that's going to play out--it will be interesting to see.

I was actually planning to get back to blogging right at the start of the year. I sat down, ready to write a post about my goals for 2013, when a friend sent me this:



How could I possibly share my goals with the world--or the very small part of it that stops by here (I love you all for doing so)--when sharing them would stop me from accomplishing them? Then I realized that not posting about my goals was stopping me from accomplishing at least one goal--blogging. Make of that what you will.

But here I am! I do plan to get back to blogging. Be forewarned that the topic of my posts will focus less on writing (thought there will be some--always) and more on environmental stuff.

Don't worry. You will not find any out-to-scare-the-pants-off-you posts about how the world is going to end if you don't sell your car and become a vegetarian. Not here. I promise. Doomsday predictions accomplish nothing but an overuse of hashtags (#apocalypse, anyone?).

I'm all about sharing the latest research on changes we can make to improve our lives. And not only ours, but the lives of our kids and their kids and generations to come.

I realize it's infinitely easier to keep on keepin' on, but I'm not talking about major changes. I'm talking about small things. Things you can do at home, at a local school, in your town or city. Things that will benefit YOU. The kinds of things that will reduce stress, improve health, make your neighborhood safer, and save you money (zoiks, I sound like a used-car salesman). Things that will make life different--but better. Really.

But as I said, it won't just be about the environment. I'm sure I'll share my new writing set-up soon (because I loves it, Precious, loves it). I have a delightful author lined up for a new Marketing Monday. And I'll be unveiling my new citizen science project soon, too.

Welcome to the 14th ba'k'tun! It's a brand new world (literally, for the Maya). What wonderful things is it bringing you?

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Overcoming the sloth

This sign pretty much says it all:

That's me--second from the right (on the sign!)

It describes my current ability to function to a T. It's 105 degrees F (40.5 C) outside, with a heat index somewhere above that, the kids are bored, stuck inside and ready for school to start, and I have articles to write. I couldn't even get this post up by my usual time.

What I really want to do today is this:

Isn't he adorable? This is the two-toed sloth
we found near our hotel.

But what I AM going to do today is hammer away at my growing list of WIPs, pitch an idea I've been working on to a lovely editor, and put a dent in my to-do list. Then I'm going to escape to the basement with the kids to hide out until the sun goes down.

What do you do in the dog-days of summer? (And why are they called that, anyway?)

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Adventures in the Rich Coast

As promised, more about Costa Rica! You know how a perfectly delightful vacation gives you nothing to talk about? "Yeah, the weather was great, everything went as planned... uh, I got sand in my swimsuit." Not much there.

Well, most of our trip was perfectly delightful--we saw dozens of species of birds (including white-ruffed manakins displaying on their arena, a pair of mot-mots, and a toucan).

Either a Passerini's tanager or a Cherrie's
tanager (that's his bright red back;
he's looking away from the camera).

We had a two-toed sloth and a troop of capuchin monkeys hanging out right by our hotel.

Capuchin, right overhead. The whole troop
went within a few meters of us.

And we received some warning head-bobs from the resident ctenosaurs and basilisks. There were tons of animals, which was what we wanted to see. It was great!

Ctenosaur (not an iguana!).
These guys are big--up to a meter in length

We spent a day at the base of the Arenal Volcano, swam in the hot springs, and enjoyed our first tropical downpour. Then it was off to Monteverde via the van-boat-van.

Arenal as seen from our hotel. We were told
we'd feel rumbles from this active volcano,
but it was quiet while we were there.

The van-boat-van is touted as the quickest way from Arenal to Monteverde. By taking us across the lake, we could avoid the windy mountain roads and shave hours off our trip. Sounds great, doesn't it? The first van ride was a quick jaunt around the volcano to the lake shore. We lucked out with a rain-free trip across the lake.

The calm before the storm (-y drive).
Lovely, isn't it?

So far so good.

When we got to the other side, the driver told us he couldn't take us the normal route--the roads were too slippery. Too dangerous. So he'd have to take us the long way around.

Now, in my mind (and in my experience driving in the Rocky Mountains), the normal route involved a rutted, rocky, single-lane unpaved road. The rains made it wet and muddy, so we couldn't go that way. Surely that meant we would be taking paved, less-steep roads instead, right?

Not so much.

We spent nearly three hours jostling around the inside of the bus, racing down bumpy hills at breakneck speed only to skid to a halt as we careened around a bend into

a herd of cattle...

or an ox-cart...

or someone on a motorbike...

or a stray dog...

or a big patch of mud. 

At one point the wheels began spinning in the mud, and I had visions of us pushing the bus to get it unstuck. (Uphill, of course, and did I mention it was raining the entire time?) At the last second, the wheels found traction and we lurched ahead.

I grew up in the mountains, so I felt surprisingly at home during the whole excursion. Beloved Husband, on the other hands, had to periodically pry his hand from the seat in front of him, just to get some feeling back in his fingertips. But he was a champ.

We made it to Monteverde as the sun set and the rain cleared. I haven't seen that many stars in the night sky in a very, very long time.

It was worth every minute of the drive. (Beloved Husband might disagree.)

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Pura Vida

First an update: the bats fully recovered and are once again free to hang from tree branches, pretend to be leaves, and generally try to avoid the resident blue jays.

Exciting news! My latest article is currently one of the features on Science News for Kids. Wonder what it might be like to walk down the street of a future city? Come take a peek.

I was also interviewed by Diane Kress Hower as part of her Passion for Picture Books series. Thanks, Diane!

Lots going on, though I haven't been here to post about it. I've spent the past two weeks travelling in Costa Rica with Beloved Husband. What an amazing country!

We even saw a tree bat swinging wildly from the branch of a tree (made me think of our bats). It's the perfect camouflage: just another fluttery leaf up among branches full of fluttery leaves. Except for the whole lack of breeze issue, which, uh, pretty much draws your attention to the fact that something is swinging wildly from the branch of the tree, and it's definitely not a leaf. As far as we know, it was not picked off by a roaming scissor-tailed kite, although we saw quite a few as we zip-lined through the cloud forest canopy.

I'll have stories and photos, but I'm still in recovery mode, so... not today. Instead, I just have a few quick pictures. Can you find the flycatcher, hummingbird, and woodpecker?

Wishing everyone a wonderful Fourth of July, and hoping everyone affected by the storms along the east coast is staying cool.

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Mischief makers

First, I am super-excited because my first ever children's article is out! If you happen to pick up a copy of the June/July 2012 Boys' Quest magazine, check pages 30-31 for a fun puzzle about animal teeth. I am officially a published children's author! The next one is slated to come out in Highlights in September. Squeee! 

I'm overflowing with ideas for more pieces, but school's out for the summer, which makes it hard to do anything with those lovely, shiny thoughts. It doesn't help that Loki, god of mischief, settled into our home around the time that last school bell rang. The result? A week full of conversations like this:

*boys arguing*
Me: That's enough.
*each child gets in one last zinger, and then they start up again*
Me: I said stop arguing.
not-quite-7YO: We're not arguing.
Me: Yes, you are.
not-quite-7YO: No, really, we're not.
Me: Now you're arguing with me.
4YO: No he's not.
Me: *raises eyebrow*
4YO: He's just trying to say ...
Me: *raises the other eyebrow*
not-quite-7YO: Uh ... let's go play outside.

I am blessed with two children who believe they know everything and are convinced they have a god- (think Loki) -given right to the last word in every conversation. After a week of conversations like that one, I didn't have much energy left to put into the not-quite-7YO's birthday party.

I usually do a theme, and I really wanted to do something like this:

(click on the photos for image credit)

or this:

Yeah, I know. Who am I kidding?

Then it occurred to me that a cake like that would be like the not-quite-7YO giving me a light saber. Or the 4YO giving Beloved Husband a Lego set. Or just about any toy the boys have ever stopped to drool over going to either of us. (These are actual examples. Recent ones.)

And since we've been trying to kick them of that habit, I had to find something the not-quite-7YO would actually want. But it had to be easy.

And then it hit me:

Thank you, Captain America!

Add to that, the not-quite-7YO wanted to have a treasure hunt, so the kids spent a good chunk of the party scouring the neighborhood for clues left by Loki after he stole the cake. 

They got the cake back, but Loki got away, taking both of the now-7YO's front teeth with him. Not sure it qualifies as a victory, but we'll take what we can get.

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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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No comprende

I started a Spanish class this week. My 4-year-old son is learning Spanish, and I thought it might be useful to have some idea what he's saying. And it will come in handy when we go to Costa Rica this summer.

There's also the fact that French and German (my other foreign languages) just aren't commonly encountered here in the U.S., but Spanish is everywhere. I think it's important to have at least a grasp of basic words and phrases, and some understanding of other cultures. Yes, the official language here is English, but Spanish--and Spanish-speaking immigrants--are here to stay. It will make life easier for everyone if we all make at least a small effort to understand each other.

It's also humbling to put yourself in the shoes of a person who doesn't speak the local language well. It reminds you that just because they don't speak well doesn't mean they're stupid (which I think a lot of people tend to believe). Far from it. It simply means they don't speak it well, or aren't comfortable doing so.

How do I know? I spent five years as the person who didn't speak the native language. I am an articulate person (when I've had my morning coffee), a well-educated person (I didn't spend six years in graduate school for nothin'). But for the first several years we lived in Germany, I dreaded having to talk to anyone in--gasp--German.

source

Why? Because every time I had to talk to someone about something, one of several things would happen. Early on, my brain would go into its default foreign language mode (French), and I would say some bizarre combination of French and German (once with a little Italian thrown in--don't ask me where that came from). The person to whom I was speaking would look at me like I was an idiot, then automatically switch to English.

As I learned more German, I would carefully figure out how to properly say something, so I knew the other person would understand. I knew I'd come a long way when he/she would respond in German. But then I was stuck, either unable to understand what they had said or unable to figure out how to respond. After a few moments of struggling, the other person would switch to English.

After several years, my level of comprehension improved greatly, but there still wasn't that natural response just forming in my mind. I still wasn't thinking in German, which meant that I had to translate what they had said into English, then translate my English response into German. This process takes time--a few minutes if you want to get all your verbs and modifiers in the right places--and by then I was usually getting one of those looks that made it clear the person thought I was an idiot. And then they would switch to English. Or, if the person didn't speak English, they would wave me off.

It is incredibly humbling to be treated like an idiot when, in fact, you know you are not (usually).

We take communication for granted, particularly here in the United States, where we expect everyone to speak English. Very few people here make the effort to learn another language, unless it is required for school. And I am the first to admit, it is extremely difficult to learn another language when you have no chance to practice using it. The U.S. is a huge country. When you drive from one state to the next, the language stays the same. It's not like Europe, where you go from one country another and change languages. To be like that here, almost every state would need to speak a different language. We just don't have that incentive to learn.

Unfortunately, our lack of willingness to learn another language is viewed negatively by other nations. They resent that we come to their countries and expect them to speak our language. Rightfully so. We expect people coming here to speak English, so we should do them the same courtesy of making an attempt to speak their language. And really, the effort goes a long way.

So now I'm speaking some bizarre combination of German, French, and Spanish (Gernchish? Fremanish? Spamanch?). People will look at me like I'm an idiot when we go to Costa Rica, I'm sure. But I'll get a few words and phrases right, I'll make the effort. And that goes a very long way.

Adiós mes amies. Ich wünchen Ihnen un buenos dias.

What experiences have you had with foreign languages (whether you speak or others were speaking to you)?

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Happy, thank you

The other day I had this wonderful, overwhelming sense that all was right with the world. It isn't, of course (I've actually got some rather frustrating things happening in my life right now), so it was particularly delightful to feel so very content with my life.

It made me think of the movie HappyThankYouMorePlease. I love the concept: acknowledge when you are happy, say thanks, and respectfully ask for more of the same. (Exactly who or what you thank depends on your belief system).

I think it's important to pause and be grateful for the good things in life when you've got them. When things go well, it's far too easy to take them for granted. And when they go wrong, it can be hard not to dwell on them. But in my experience, when I stop to acknowledge the good things--to be grateful for them--I tend to get more of the same.

So here are the things for which I am incredibly grateful, in no particular order:

• Spring is here and the sun is out.
• The plants I put in last fall survived the very dry winter. Some are already blooming.
• Trees are flowering everywhere, and the air is perfumed with their scent. It reminds me of springtime in Berlin, which I sorely miss.
• I am currently working on an article for a science magazine for kids (can't tell you which one, just yet)--it's a fantastic opportunity and lots of fun.
• An editor asked me to revise and resubmit one of my non-fiction PB manuscripts and gave me an estimated time frame to hear back from him on the revision.
• I have an amazing group of critique partners and beta readers who have helped me make my work shine; without them the previous item would not have happened. 
• My mom came to visit and helped me paint the library (a realtor would probably call it the formal dining room, but we keep books there instead of a table).
• Koda has figured out he's not alpha (he tried for a while, but he's finally realized he's on the bottom rung). Now that he knows his place, he's the sweetest dog we could have hoped for.
• And of course, my wonderful family, who put up with more than their fair share of craziness with me.

These are growing in my yard--love 'em! (source)

What are you grateful for?

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12x12 in '12

I love watching my friends' successes. I get caught up in the excitement. Every now and again there might be a twinge of envy, but honestly, I'm just so thrilled for them. They've worked hard to be where they are and their successes are hard won.

Such is the case with one of my wonderful critique partners, Julie Hedlund. Julie's been working hard to build her blog (very successfully, I might add), and she just launched the 12x12 in '12 challenge to write 12 picture books in 12 months. She's got well over 200 participants. to kick it all off, Katie Davis just released her first 2012 Brain Burps About Books podcast featuring... Julie.

Click that last link and listen up, folks (even if you don't write PBs). There's a lot of great information here! Congratulations Julie!

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Zen moments

I just had to share this incredible time-lapse photography. Take three minutes out of your day to watch the beauty of nature. With thanks to Stephen Messer, who first passed this along.


The Mountain from TSO Photography on Vimeo.

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What's in a name?

Happy New Year!

source

Bruce Coville wrote about resolutions versus goals on Facebook yesterday, and it really hit home.

He said he sets new year's goals, rather than making resolutions. Why? Goals provide you something to work toward. They keep you moving forward. Resolutions? Not so much. With resolutions, you either keep them or you don't. Very few people keep their resolutions, certainly not throughout the entire year. Bruce argues that by making resolutions, you are setting yourself up to fail.

Perhaps it's all semantics, but I like the idea of setting achievable goals. Writing them down and checking my progress as the year progresses. It seems like a more realistic approach to self-improvement (which is, after all, the purpose of resolutions, is it not?).

My goals?

• Revise Thunderstruck to get it just right and query, query, query. 
• Write up that picture book that's been rattling around in my head for the past 18 months.
• Get my articles into at least three new magazines.

There are others, but they're pretty lofty, so I think I'll keep them for myself.

What are your goals for 2012?

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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.

source

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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Time Warp

Wow time flies! November's gone and we're already a week into December. It's been a busy few weeks.

I wrote over 50,000 words of Spirit for NaNoWriMo, earning myself this lively little badge:

Thanks for all the words of encouragement while I was doing it!

And we enjoyed a lovely Thanksgiving weekend with my parents, sister, and her family. It was the first time we've all been together for Thanksgiving in over - well over! - a decade. Also the first time I've hosted. I am so thankful to be close enough to join them again. I'm also thankful that my first attempt at a turkey turned out like this:

Post-NaNo has been a scramble to catch up on other things, namely articles and a non-fiction PB that I'm really behind on. But one article is ready to submit, another has a solid first draft, and the PB is... next on my list. 

Oh, and I had the distinct pleasure of signing another contract with Highlights!

Am I focusing on the good? Yes, yes I am. Is Spirit a wonderfully formed first draft that will require little work? No. I will, in fact, have to completely rewrite it. Did I get rejections? Yep. But I am focusing on the happy moments. I want to savor them.

How have you been?

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Instant Gratification

Instant gratification doesn't happen very often. Not in science or writing. The best scientific experiments raise more questions than answers, and I don't think I've ever written anything that I didn't revise at least three times. And then there's the process of submitting: waiting... w a i t i n g . . .  w  a  i  t  i  n  g. 

I've been doing a lot of that lately. Waiting. By the end of last week, I was trying to make myself write something, anything, just to take my mind off of the seven different submissions I've got out there.

Over the weekend, October peeked its head around the corner and waved. Hmm. One week left in September. If I wanted all those plants I'd bought to survive the winter, I needed to get them in soon. Time to put my weeks of landscape planning into action.

So we did. Beloved Husband and I (with the help of the kids) dug up the grass between our fence line and the sidewalk. Then we hand-tilled the (extremely hard, clay) soil underneath. We removed the soil, put the grass back in upside-down and covered it up with the soil that had been under it. (Following all this? There will be a quiz later.) It took two three-hour sessions to prepare ⅔ of the fence line.* (If you're wondering why we put the grass in upside-down and buried it, it will decompose and become compost. It also saved us having to figure out what to do with it once it was out.)

Have I mentioned that we're the crazy new neighbors in our conservative, midwestern neighborhood? We're the weird people from Germany who mow with an electric lawn mower. (Two months ago, when Beloved Husband first used it, our normally polite neighbors actually stopped and stared). But last week, one of our neighbors bought an electric mower, which meant we'd gone from crazy to trend-setting. Until we started digging, that is.

The next day, I set out my plants and started putting them in the newly tilled strip. Among comments from passersby about how much work I had cut out for me, I planted several kinds of native grasses and perennials - plants that, once established, will be drought tolerant and need less care than the grass did. They will attract beneficial insects like bees, lacewings, ladybugs, and butterflies. The grasses (when fully grown) will provide cover for birds that eat the pesty insects. And there will be flowers blooming in all different colors throughout the spring, summer, and fall.

Unlike my daily activities, I got to experience the (almost) instant gratification of seeing a project reach completion. it was hard work, but well worth it. And it provided the added benefit of taking my mind off of all those things I'm waiting on.

Oh, and the neighbors love it. Several asked what the different kinds of plants were. I wonder how long it will be before we go from crazy to trend-setting yet again?

* To do the rest of this strip and convert several other bits of lawn to garden areas, we're going to do it the easy way. Power landscaping tool rental, here we come.


What gratifying events have you experienced lately?

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Embracing Failure

This is a couple of years old, but the messages are so important, I thought I'd share them. J.K. Rowling on the fringe benefits of failure.


J.K. Rowling Speaks at Harvard Commencement from Harvard Magazine on Vimeo.

"What we achieve inwardly will change outer reality." -Plutarch.

How will your imagination inspire change?

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Overcoming adversity

The Chautauqua Writer Workshop kicks off this evening with the opening banquet.

My scheduled flight gave me just enough time to change before it starts, so I spent much of last night debating whether to pack my dress in my suitcase or whether to figure out a way to carry it on. I had this horrible, unshakable feeling something would go wrong, most likely that my luggage wouldn't arrive, given a short layover in O'Hare. How important was the dress?

Turns out it doesn't matter, because the thing that went wrong wasn't with the luggage. It's with the flight. It was canceled.

Instead of madly dashing through O'Hare, I'm sitting in Omaha waiting to start my journey. I'll arrive four hours late and miss the banquet completely. But at least I'll be there in time to socialize with the other people staying at my hotel, familiarize myself with my schedule and other orientation materials, and, most importantly, to begin the workshop itself tomorrow morning.

All thanks to the heroic efforts of my husband, who spent an hour on the phone getting me rebooked this morning.

So here's to an amazing week. I'm sure it will be all the better simply because it actually happened.

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Life in 300 square feet

We (my husband, two children, and I) have spent the past four weeks living in small spaces: the two weeks before the move in a small one-bedroom apartment in Berlin, the last two weeks in an equally small one-room hotel suite. As the woman in Julia Donaldson's A Squash and a Squeeze would put it, it's titchy for four.

So what have we been up to since returning Stateside? Lots o' things...

• we bought a car (we hadn't planned to)
• we spent four hours in the ER with our 3-year-old (hadn't planned that, either)
• we decided against the house we were sure we wanted before we moved and wound up looking at about 25 more
• we refereed countless numbers of fights between two boys who could use a little more distance from each other
• we discovered that the Great Plains can be hot and humid and rather miserable at times, and, consequently, came to accept the necessity of air conditioning
• we went to the Farmer's Market, discovered burpless cucumbers, and sampled real maple syrup by the spoonful
• we spent time hanging out in the (THE!) indie bookstore in town
• we had decent margaritas and Mexican food for the first time in years
• we went for walks in the nearby park and watched the curious fireflies check out our curious children
• we found a place to call home

And on Saturday, I head to Chautauqua for the Writers Workshop! I can't wait to get my head back into writing. It's been far too long.

Check back on Monday for the first part of a terrific guest post by Katie Davis--Marketing Monday at it's finest!

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Gratitude

We're just about to move from Europe to North America, and given how hectic the past six weeks have been, I am incredibly grateful for a number of things.

• Internet access!! (for the first time in weeks—it's been killing me)
• My son is napping and the construction workers outside took a break. Peace and quiet for the first time all week.
• Not having to pay rent for July when we won't even be here. (Long story, but it almost happened.)
• The housing manager offered to paint our old apartment for us. (For once my lack of skill paid off—he saw how inept my painting was and quickly offered to bring in someone who could do it right.)
• The movers had mad 3-D Tetris skillz and managed to fit all of our stuff into the shipping container, even though we were sure something would have to stay behind.
• The washing machine didn't break until our last load of laundry.
• The people who were buying our washer and dryer (knowingly) took the washing machine anyway.
• The army of friends who have watched our kids, fed us, and schlepped us (and our stuff) around Berlin.
• My children's excitement about the move.
• Discovering a trail at the end of a lake that led into the Grunewald yesterday morning. I spent the morning soaking up the forest, since there's nothing like it on the Plains.
• Having had the opportunity to live in Europe for five years.
• Living in a place that inspired my latest novel and prompted me to start writing again.
• Finally getting an acceptance letter from Highlights.
• My signed copy of Possum Summer, which I'm saving for the plane ride.
• Only five more days until I get to read it.

I hope you're all doing well. Sorry for my absence from the blogosphere, but I hope to be back soon!

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