In Awe of a Winter Wonderland

If I could wave a magic wand and change something about myself, topping the list would be how affected I am by the weather.  I am nearly always too cold.  Occasionally I am too hot; it’s either too sunny, or too cloudy, or too wet or too dry.  Rarely am I perfectly content with the temperature or my reaction to it.

I used to think this was simply a personality glitch, but then I got frostbite—first in April and then in August—and I knew my body was clearly unhappy about the weather too.

There is one exception to this litany of complaints, and that’s when the sky opens up and dumps out a snowstorm.  I absolutely love snow.  If it’s very cold, I don’t want to go outside, but if it’s very cold with snow, then I’m the first one out the door.  The child in me emerges and my feelings about the weather run towards giddy.  Having spent most of my childhood in warmer, southern states, it still feels exceptionally magical when it snows, however juvenile that may sound.

I suspect I am not the only adult who professes a childlike love of a good snowfall.  A few weeks ago, the Grand Coulee area got a wonderful snowstorm.  Friday night saw crowds of families at North Dam Park careening down the local sledding hill.  It didn’t seem to matter that the mercury didn’t even top 20 degrees.  Kids from toddlers to teenagers were bundled up, shoving the powdery snow in their mouths and flopping down in the soft white fluff to make snow angels.  Adults were scattered across the rim of the hill, content to watch their happy children cavort in the snow.  Some of them, myself included, catapulted down the hill with them, laughing in equal delight.  Someone even put their muscles to work and built a questionable jump off the concrete benches for the downhill racers. 

Regardless of the temperature, after a few trips up and down that hill toting a sled and a toddler, cold is the farthest thing from my mind.  The simplistic wonder of frozen precipitation apparently can bring out the best in me—I wasn’t cold one bit.

The anticipation and activity of the holiday season has passed us, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we have to cocoon ourselves in our houses until spring.  With only four seasons to the year, it seems a shame to waste one of them simply waiting for it to be over. 

So, we go ice-skating in Wenatchee, skiing in Idaho, snowshoeing in Northrup Canyon, and sledding wherever we can find a suitable hill.  People seem to be extra friendly when they are outdoors in a winter wonderland, like everyone is sharing in a small gift.  Smiles are wide; conversations with genderless strangers, bundled head to toe in unidentifiable gear are friendly and swift as you ride the chairlift or console a crying child who flipped their sled.

Like when I was a kid, snow seems to bring out the best in outdoor fun.  There has been a lull of some months where playing outdoors was top on our list of daily activities.  It has been cold and dark.  But somehow, when it’s cold and dark and snowy, the effect is softer, more inviting. 

I know that snow offers a substantial amount of inconvenience to most people.  Shoveling a driveway is serious work.  Roads are icy and dangerous, boots are muddy, and the parking lots are slippery.  As I write this, the rain is washing away much of our accumulated snow and the feeble sun is melting the rest.  I know most people around town will be happy about this, but I can’t help but hope the weatherman will tell me another big storm is on its way before our next season is upon us.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington.  February 8, 2012

Internet Road Rage

Earlier this month, Real Simple magazine sponsored an event known as “Be nice on the Internet week.”  When I came across the advertisement explaining the idea, I have to admit I was intrigued.  I immediately had simultaneous conflicting thoughts.  First, what a good idea!  And then quickly followed by, why is there a need to be nice?  The Internet is not a person with feelings.

But that thought alone made me realize just how critical such an awareness of our Internet manners probably is.  In the grand scheme of things, the Internet is really still in its infancy.  We learn more each day about our individual interactions with the global community through cyberspace and how that affects our own lives.  Therefore, learning how to interact politely and with respect should probably be a high priority. 

In point of fact, how many times have you looked below an article you just read and saw a plethora of nasty or, at the very least, thoughtless comments?  Rarely do I come across a comment following an article that is helpful or thought provoking.  Most are simply nasty jabs or shallow one-word exclamations of praise.  My personal experience of browsing comments following an article I’ve read online has prompted me to almost always skip the comment section altogether.  I seldom gain any further understanding of a subject by reading what the global community thinks of it.

When I saw the week being sponsored by Real Simple magazine, it made me really think.  Perhaps we need new lessons on etiquette for the Information Age?  As our world grows smaller and we are connected to people across the globe by a simple website, perhaps we need to relearn some of the simple lessons from our childhood. 

As youngsters we are taught some basic levels of etiquette that are sometimes easy to forget as we grow up.  I think these are especially easy to forget when we are online with no real feedback from someone’s body language or facial expressions to keep our instantaneous criticisms to ourselves.  Remember, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”?  Or perhaps, “Think before you speak.”  And maybe most importantly, “Treat someone else like you would want to be treated.” 

If we are to try and impart how essential it is to maintain some basic level of humanity, even when faced with a computer screen and not another human, are there new rules that apply?  What exactly is the issue behind Internet etiquette?  Is this something that should be taught at school or taught at home, as lessons of etiquette used to be?  In other words, is this a writing issue or a manners issue? 

My instincts tell me it’s both and that we need to recall those early childhood lessons and turn them into useful techniques for modern times.  Instead of reading the newspaper and discussing its contents, we now email each other links to articles with our own comments attached.  Therefore it is essential to teach both good writing, in the form of critical thinking when faced with contrary ideas, and good manners to form those criticisms into complete sentences that wouldn’t offend your grandmother, were she to happen upon your name in the comment section.

In gathering information for this column, people have given me suggestions as to why thoughtless comments abound on the Internet.  Perhaps society as a whole is simply ruder now.  Etiquette isn’t taught like it used to be, so we are simply less educated as to what is polite.  Or perhaps we are simply comfortably protected at home behind our computer screens. 

I’d like to think we haven’t descended that far and that humanity, like the Internet, is still learning how to adapt to a rapidly changing world.  Certainly interactions in the real world have not descended into such baseless one-line razes as you can find below any number of articles, columns and videos online.  But perhaps we could all use a refresher course in being kind to others and reminder that if you wouldn’t say it in front of your grandmother, don’t say anything at all.

Stories to inspire at all ages

It seems to me that as our world has changed from the hunter-gatherers we once were to the high paced technological world we are today one thing hasn’t changed, and that’s the way a story can impact your life.  After all, isn’t that what the ancient cave drawings were?  They were telling a story.  It’s also clear to me that this isn’t a vein of teaching that is reserved strictly for the classroom.  We begin telling stories to our children in infancy and continue listening to stories our entire lives.  

Any night of the week at my house finds my daughter cuddled in the crook of our arms, cozy in her footie pajamas reading a book.  Right now, we are in a transition period.  We’ve left the simple board books like Goodnight Moon behind, but we’re far from chapter books like Little House on the Prairie and even farther from Harry Potter.  But as we’ve moved from those simple rhymes into books that have actual stories behind them, I find myself strangely moved as I recall the lessons they imparted upon me when I was a child, even if I don’t remember reading the actual books.

Sometimes as we read these slightly complex moral tales, I wonder how much my two-year-old is actually taking in.  Is it possible for children, let alone adults, to learn from anecdote?  If we read Green Eggs and Ham enough times, will she really be willing to try something new, even if it looks kind of strange?  Does she know that The Little Engine That Could is forcibly convincing herself that she is the master of her own limits?  Is it the slightly creepy Wild Things that are giving her nightmares, or are they telling her to use her imagination when times get tough?

Almost by definition, a children’s book must be teaching something.  Whether it is something academic like the alphabet or something moral like being kind to others, somewhere someone decided we had to take every second we could to impart these important lessons upon our impressionable children. 

I wonder, in our current world of high paced entertainment, if adult fiction requires as many guidelines.  That’s not to say we don’t get lessons out of the stories we read as adults, we do.  But when talking about the books we read as children, I find that there is a special brightness when these stories from our past resurface.  As if we are remembering a moment in our lives where a good story utterly changed our world.

I’m sure that since I was a child, there have been volumes of wonderful chapter books written that are more time-appropriate for children today than the ones that I read.  Even so, I can’t help but anticipate the day when my daughter might want to read Little House on the Prairie or Anne of Green Gables.  Books we read as adults rarely inspire the kind of emotions we hold for those stories that most likely did change our view of our world when we were young.  I think the stories we read as adults are still woven with the life lessons we were taught as children, they are just not quite as apparent to less impressionable grown-ups.  Be nice to strangers, inner beauty is what’s important, share, say please and thank you, everybody uses the potty; we’re all really very alike, but different too.

At this stage in my daughter’s life, I still have 100% authority over which moral lessons she is getting from her books.  I know this period will not last.  As long as it does, perhaps I’ll be able to instill enough of these ideas into her subconscious that if she ever finds herself lost, she’ll remember that it was Winnie the Pooh who taught her that sometimes you have to get lost first to find your way home.  Or when faced with a hard challenge a mantra from the distant past may surface in her head: “I think I can I think I can I think I can.”

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. January 11, 2012

Real resolutions await

It was John Lennon who said “And so this is Christmas, and what have we done.  Another year over, and a new one just begun.”  This week marks that week where we flip over, shaking off last year’s excesses and unwrapping those new blank calendars. 

The most common thing to do around New Year’s—besides one last night of indulgence—is to make a resolution.  Sometimes resolutions are made lightly; lose 10 pounds! Others are made with all seriousness.  Either way, many times in this week leading up to New Year’s when I evaluate the resolution I made the previous year, I can hardly remember it, let alone declare it conquered. 

I find Lennon’s sentiments to define how I usually feel at this time of year.  Another year has passed.  How have I spent it?  What did I do?  For me it’s a natural time to look inward and ask myself some probing questions about my life, my health, my state of mind, my ambitions or whatever it is that feels like it could be better in my life. 

I’ve been to New Year’s Day parties where resolutions are talked about as if we’re discussing what to have for dinner that night.  Sometimes that’s fun.  Sometimes it’s nice to breezily say that I plan on joining a gym, or writing the next great American novel.  But New Year’s Resolutions don’t have to be empty promises.  Last year I made a resolution and not only did I keep it, but as I pursued it the goal evolved into three separate avenues that very quietly and slowly made me more fulfilled at the end of every day.  One affected my health, one affected my creativity and one challenged me to learn a new skill.  I had no idea that making that one off-hand resolution would evolve over the course of the year into something that would add richness and pride to my life. 

Now that I’ve experienced the thrill of achieving one of those lofty New Year’s Day promises, I find that I am eagerly looking forward to this years’ and wondering where it might take me over the course of the year.  I also feel like I owe it to myself to make another reachable resolution that I might actually keep and not one that I know to be vaguely vacant of any true motivation.

I recently came across an article entitled “12 Things Happy People Do Differently” on the website marcandangel.com.  I was already swirling ideas around for this column about the merits of New Year’s Resolutions and I was pleased to see that number 10 on their list was “Commit to your goals.”  If that’s not a reason to stick to a resolution, then I don’t know what is.  Science has proven that people who make a resolution, or goal, and stick to it are happier people!  On the flip side I believe they are telling us that if we put something down in our minds as a goal and don’t stick to it, we will feel defeated with ourselves.  The trick there is to fully believe that you can still accomplish those resolutions, no matter the challenges.  The websites corresponding point is number two, “cultivate optimism;” people who see challenges positively will find an opportunity in every bump in the road.

The official “holiday season” ends on New Year’s Day, but I find myself feeling ready for that much anticipated time of year to be over on the day after Christmas.  We’ve all indulged.  Gifts have been exchanged, family has spent time together and the tree is starting to shed its needles all over the living room floor.  As I take down my Christmas decorations and put my house back into a more natural state of being, I feel like I too am tidying myself up from a holiday season of indulgence.  The tree gets dragged out the door, needles falling behind and like it, so does last year’s problems and challenges.  A whole new year awaits; new resolutions to make and goals to achieve.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. December 28, 2011

A Partridge in a Pear Tree? Does it come with free shipping?

Just before Thanksgiving I looked in my post office box and saw it overflowing.  I sighed in resignation; this was a day I had been expecting.  The catalogs had begun to arrive. 

It was like this for weeks.  As they started to pile up around my house, I found myself glancing at them out of the corner of my eye.  In years past I’ve browsed through some of them, but mostly they’ve gone straight from the mailbox to the trashcan.  But this year, in the flurry of getting ready for guests to arrive for Thanksgiving, before I chucked them in the bin I made a concerted effort to look through them.

The more I looked I realized that maybe this year catalog shopping was the way to go.  After all, I can’t just run out to the nearest mall or big box store to get a last minute present.  Many of my presents are going to relatives across the country, and you can’t beat those free shipping deals.  The more I thought about it, the more determined I was that this year I would not just browse through the mound of catalogs for ideas, but for actual purchases.

Thanksgiving passed; Black Friday passed and Cyber Monday arrived.  This is usually a day I ignore, but because of my pre-Thanksgiving organization I pounced.  In fact, I bought most of my Christmas presents that day or in the days that followed.  It appears as if I wasn’t alone either.  Americans everywhere descended upon their computers as Cyber Monday morphed into “Cyber Week.”  According to the digital analytics firm comScore, in the week following Thanksgiving Americans spent $6 billion Christmas shopping on-line (no that’s not a typo, it says billion). 

This is a staggering amount of money, but it seems lavishing your loved ones at Christmas is rooted in history.  Perhaps it can be traced to the Christmas song “The Twelve Days of Christmas.”  This year, if you were to replicate the song you would spend $101,119.84 on your true love.  Who can live up to such expectations?  Does love demand that we buy such rare gifts as a partridge in a pear tree or send your sweetheart 12 lords-a-leaping?  What happened to a simple fruitcake or tin of homemade fudge?  Are we expecting too much out of our Christmas giving?

My shopping, or shall I say buying, is just about completed and I pat myself on the back for being so organized.  But to be completely honest, I feel a slight sense of loss.  I’ve always had an abundance of Christmas spirit, and this is a time of year I look forward to with great anticipation.  I like the baking and the decorating, the cheesy music and the twinkling lights.  I like to stroll through my favorite local shops thinking of my favorite people.  In my flurry of online shopping this year, instead of feeling wrapped in the Christmas spirit, I feel instead as if I were simply checking people off a list.  Is searching for the best deal taking away from the Christmas spirit, or is it that bottom dollar deal that makes it?  Are the presents that we open on Christmas morning the best part about the season, or is it everything that leads up to that moment? 

There is a song that says “we are all children on Christmas Day.”  I’ve always felt this to be true.  There is a special magic that materializes around Christmas that smacks of the unexplained we once believed in as children.  Now that I’m buying and preparing for my own child, I understand that the gifts she opens on Christmas morning will enhance the magic of the season for her.  But I also understand that my thrill for the twinkling lights on our tree, the special once-a-year treats we’re making together, the frenzy of looking for the perfect gift in a crowded mall, and the anticipation of a visit from Santa are just as magical as the latest deal I found online.  And if “we’re all children on Christmas Day,” then I’m not expecting a partridge in a pear tree, but just a small sparkle of that old magic.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. December 14, 2011

Combating Leaves

One morning, not long ago, I awoke with a new understanding of an expression I had heard before.  Overnight my rectangular patch of green grass had transformed into an actual “blanket of leaves.”  You can imagine my surprise when I looked out my kitchen window and could not see one speck of green anywhere in my yard.

To be completely fair, there had been some patches of leaves on the grass in the days leading up to this, but nothing to inspire me to go outside and remove them.  Just a few harmless leaves, why disturb them?  But on this one morning, there was no denying it; I had to get rid of them.  I looked up.  It wasn’t readily apparent that my great silver maple had dropped any leaves at all.  This was a tad troublesome, as it looked to me like there were at least 100 trees worth of fallen leaves on my lawn already.  More was coming, of that I could be sure.

As I pondered the new vista out my kitchen window, I realized this was the first year of my life that I have ever been solely responsible for leaf disposal.  In my adolescence my parents owned a blower and had sufficient space to simply blow the leaves off their grass into the adjoining forest.  And while I certainly appreciated the blowers’ efficiency, I am embarrassed to say that for all these years I have viewed raking leaves as quite a romantic pastime.  It’s like a postcard for a picture perfect fall day: colorful autumn leaves drift slowly from the stately trees and a woman wrapped in a woolen sweater and bright knit hat peacefully rakes leaves in front of her white picket fence.  Hot chocolate and perhaps an apple pie await her indoors.  Beautiful, yes?

My husband, who grew up in leafy New England and knows better, happily handed over raking duty to me.  I bundle up my daughter and grab that ancient instrument of leaf removal, the indomitable rake.  There is a certain finesse to raking leaves I hadn’t realized before; a rhythm, a pattern.  At first I am simply enjoying hauling them into a pile to let my two-year-old leap into.  She shrieks with laughter.  I take pictures. 

After only a short time she loses interest, much faster than my own child self imagined.  When I was her age we lived in southern California and although we had one magnificent tree in our small backyard, the ground was mostly a slab of concrete and bounding into piles of fallen leaves never entered our sphere of play.  I’d always imagined that for a child it would be enormously fun.

No matter.  I turn up the intensity with my dear rake.  A wind has picked up and I notice my ever-growing pile of leaves has begun to flitter back across the lawn.  My daughter is banging at the door to go inside.  I do what I can with the piles I have made and go inside to reevaluate.  To my dismay there is no hot chocolate or freshly baked apple pie.  I’m starting to feel a little gypped. 

The next morning I awake to find a brand new “blanket of leaves.”  We repeat the process except this time my daughter loses interest after only a few minutes and I’m left alone, silently cursing this ancient instrument called the rake I had so adored just yesterday.  My arms and back are a little stiff, but they are calling for snowfall tonight.  And although I don’t know what happens to a blanket of leaves when snowfall covers them, I’m pretty sure its not good.  I’m thinking of chucking the rake and asking my neighbor to borrow his leaf blower.

After days of this repeated pattern I look around with satisfaction.  A terrific windstorm has hastened the process and just the last few holdouts cling to the silver maple in my backyard.  Whenever the wind finally loosens the last remnants of a once vibrant fall, I suspect they will be spared the rake for this year. 

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. November 30, 2011

Traditions to be thankful for

Much of the holiday season is made up of rituals. Each family has their own unique rituals that carry them through the cooking, baking, gift giving and decorating. Yet there is one aspect of the holiday season that is ubiquitous across America, the Thanksgiving dinner. One night of the year all of America sits down to the same meal, with only slight variations. The food has become a nationwide ritual that is the fulcrum to the holiday itself.

Compared to Christmas, or even Halloween, the Thanksgiving we know is a fairly new tradition. Our ancestors brought with them remnants of harvest festivals they surely celebrated in their own country, giving thanks for a good crop of food to last them through the winter. And although we all know the tale of the first Thanksgiving feast between the Pilgrims and the Indians, the modern day holiday that we celebrate in such continuity was only solidified as a national holiday during the Civil War, and settled on its current date in 1941 by President Roosevelt. Regardless of its origins and relative newness, Thanksgiving is ingrained into modern life and many, myself included, find it one of the most enjoyable holidays.

The very word gives us direction into how to celebrate the day. Give thanks. Simple and clear. Find something in your life, no matter the situation, and be glad for it. Most people spend the day celebrating family and nourishment in some form. For family doesn’t always have to be a unit in the traditional sense. At dinner tables across the country people will be sitting down to celebrate the families that they have made in addition to the families they were given. Family can be a loosely defined word. How many people in your life can you be thankful for, blood relative or not? The list may be short, but I bet it is fiercely cherished.

One year, my family decided to chuck the traditional celebration of cooking, football and turkey-induced comas and decided to spend the long weekend in New York City. Although the Thanksgiving Day we celebrated that year was in itself a nontraditional celebration, our ritual activities were in fact the embodiment of the Thanksgiving holiday. We braved the freezing streets and watched the larger-than-life balloons float past during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. (Infinitely better in person than on TV, I might add.) We saw the Rockettes fling their symmetrically long legs high in the air during their annual Christmas Spectacular. We saw the tree in Rockefeller Center in all its twinkling glory. We didn’t see much football that year, and the turkey and stuffing wasn’t as good in a restaurant as it is in my mother’s kitchen. But every year when I see the parade on TV, I get a little tingle and remember what it was like as a teenager to stand there with my family, and I’m glad for nontraditional celebrations.

There is one ritual that we did observe that year, along with everyone else. At the very end of the Thanksgiving Parade, the marching bands’ music had faded around the next corner, and the balloons had long drifted off into lower Manhattan (or out of the TV screen). Anticipation for what awaited at the end of the parade built. Then finally, at long last, Santa in all his red velvet finery appeared in his magnificent sleigh. And at that, with the appearance of one float, the Christmas season arrived. Something more to be thankful for on this day of giving thanks.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. November 16, 2011

The curiosity of greener grass

I’ve always thought that envy and jealousy were learned emotions. Somewhere around the adolescent years it seemed a desire for another’s life or possessions entered into the picture. As you grow up, the wisdom in the statement “The grass is always greener on the other side” makes more sense.

It turns out, I wasn’t quite right. Just about the time my daughter started crawling I noticed that babies seemed to have a fair amount of desire for another’s possessions. The surest way to get a kid crawling across the room was for another kid to have hold of a toy. At that stage I started to wonder at the “grass is always greener” statement. How many squabbles do parents break up in their lives over children fighting over a possession? Do they want it simply because the other one does too?

Could it possibly be that we are born with envy? Toddlers have an especially healthy dose of this trait, although sometimes I wonder if it is simply curiosity in disguise. Lately my daughter has discovered food envy. Anything on my plate inevitably looks better to her. With repeated exposure she would even reach for my raw broccoli, as long as it was on my plate. Try serving it to her on her own plate and its just a little tree to play with. Unsure if this is wise, I fumble on about how good it is that we are learning to share and let her take my food. It appears this is a family trait. My parents confess that when my brother and I were children they took to ordering things at restaurants for us that they wanted to eat, knowing that whatever they had, we would want.

As Thanksgiving approaches, it makes me think about the grass-is-always-greener statement again. In simplified terms, Thanksgiving is a time to take stock of what is already present in our lives and be grateful for it. Our grass is our own, even if our neighbors may seem to be greener. I can’t help but notice that just after we all come to terms with what we have, the next month we turn around and spend an entire month coveting things that we do not have but wish we did. It may be a flat screen TV or wishing for a far off loved one to be with us. But either way, I cannot help but wonder if we would start the year off in a healthier mindset if those mental activities were reversed.

The more I excessively dissect the “grass is always greener” sentiment I have come to the conclusion that I cannot believe an emotion like envy is something we are handed at birth. I’d like to believe that bad habits are something we learn. So perhaps instead what I witnessed as I watched my daughter race across the floor on her chubby knees was simply raging curiosity. And as we grow it is our task to turn that emotion into something healthier. Is our need to have something better, something perhaps our friends already have, what drives us to be smarter, faster, better? This year, should we be grateful for our innate curiosity, sometimes disguised as envy? If it will spur a just-learning baby to propel herself across a room, what else could envy teach us? If our neighbors grass truly is greener than ours, perhaps admiring it and asking what sort of products he uses on it will simply make our own grass that much brighter. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it?

 

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. November 2, 2011

Mysterious joy of Halloween is renewed

As October creeps along there are signs of Halloween everywhere.  Enormous displays of candy deck the aisles of the grocery store, neighborhoods are decorating their houses, the air is getting chillier and the darkness of night is advancing quickly.  I find children all over town giddily anticipating the festive night.  But it’s not just the children of the area that are looking forward to Halloween—it’s adults too. 

What is it exactly that adults love so much about Halloween?  Perhaps it is the chance to revisit a creative and silly side of our own childhoods.  Imagining that a dark autumn night holds something mysterious or scary is thrilling, even to those of us who are all grown up.  Or perhaps it is simply the fun of handing out raw sugar to other people’s children and imagining the good times that follow.  One night a year, children on a sugar high are adorably endearing.

Before we moved to Grand Coulee we lived in a section of our town in New Mexico where everyone had a couple of acres of land; beautiful, but not conducive to small children walking between houses on a dark October night.  The first year we lived there, fresh out of youth, my husband and I excitedly put out the Halloween decorations and filled bowls with candy, eagerly awaiting the first trick-or-treaters.  Sadly, we were sorely disappointed.  Not a single costumed child showed up and we were left alone watching scary movies with far too much candy to split between two adults. 

The delightful mystery of Halloween was lost from our lives for a few years.   Halloween is a holiday seemingly created strictly for children, and until we had one of our own it was too easy to treat the day as a non-event, a day to simply get through on the way to the more monumental holidays of the next few months.

Consequently, after a hiatus of many years, Halloween celebrations have reentered my life as an important date on the yearly calendar.  As a parent, I feel it is my solemn duty to give my daughter the simplistic childhood version of what a holiday may mean.  Therefore, for Halloween I give her pumpkins, costumes, and candy.  Unlike other holidays, the child version of Halloween is not much shallower than the adult version.  What is Halloween other than a guise for a night of fun and indulgence?  All that’s required these days is a costume, however simple or elaborate it may be.  Even the idle threat of the “trick” has long been discarded among most American children who rightfully assume that it is their due, without any sort of song, dance or entertainment, to receive their “treat.” 

I’ve been told that we live in an area of town that gets an enormous amount of trick-or-treating traffic.  So, for the first time in many years, we have pulled out the old decorations and stocked up on massive bags of candy.  They mysterious delight of Halloween has returned, even if I don’t expect any kind of “tricks” to entertain us during the night.  The guise of it all is enough to find the night alluring and special.  Keeping the bulging bag of raw sugar closed until the big day is, alas, a challenge reserved for the adults among us.

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. October 19, 2011

Activities for all in the fall

With the passing of the Autumnal Equinox and our march into October, fall is officially upon us.  October has always been my favorite month of the year.  Even as a child I looked forward to fall and the fresh back-to-school activities.  Its as if the heavy lid of summer has come off and everyone has more energy and a lighter step.  Now is the time to get things done, finish up any last minute projects that you had slated to finish before the end of the year.  The crisp days of fall beckon me to get off the beach and accomplish something before the frozen days of winter send us indoors.  The promise of a hot cup of cocoa and a good book by the fire entice me to be productive and enjoy the fresh outdoor air before old man winter arrives.

This October marks the one-year anniversary of the first time I saw Grand Coulee.  It’s the first change in weather that my senses recognize.  Last year during this month we spent a long weekend to see what offerings the area had for us.  It was a gorgeous weekend, crisp and clear, and Halloween decorations happily speckled the neighborhoods.  As the weather has turned this year, I remember that weekend and the feel in the air of the same back-to-school freshness that we were to get by moving here. 

Summer in Grand Coulee has a marvelous array of activities that kept us very close to home.  With the coming of fall, the beach towels have been washed and stored away until next summer, but by no means are we headed indoors just yet.  Festivals and fairs dot the landscape of eastern Washington almost every weekend this fall.  Head in any direction from Grand Coulee and you might find a town square filled with vendors and music, parades and food.  A couple weekends ago, I stumbled upon the Autumn Leaf festival in Leavenworth and a routine Saturday drive turned into an unexpected day of merriment.  Heading in the opposite direction is a scenic train day trip along the Pend Oreille River.  The trip takes only an hour and a half and is rumored to be spectacular.  There is also the promise of a number of different Oktoberfest celebrations in various parts of the state for those with Bavarian backgrounds or simply the love of good beer.

New to me this month is the unbelievable bounty of the apple harvest.  Driving near Wenatchee recently I couldn’t help but be overcome by the enormity of the process of picking nearly 60% of the nations apples.  On first glance, to a newcomer, it doesn’t seem like the valley could hold that many apple trees.  But the further I drove and the more I looked, I noticed apple trees growing in every nook and cranny that could possibly support a tree, and even some that seemed unlikely.  There is nothing that says fall like biting into a crisp apple, the smell of a fresh baked apple pie or cool apple cider. 

This fall offers many exciting day trips and new things to uncover for someone spending their first autumn in the area, like myself.  But I suspect that there might also be some new things to see for those who’ve been here a long time.  If long hours spent in a car aren’t appealing, there are numerous trails of every difficulty around the Grand Coulee area.  That crisp fall air is perfect for a short day hike.  With the quantity of fun fall activities to do in the area, there is likely to be something for everyone. 

Previously published in "The Star," Grand Coulee, Washington. October 5, 2011