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Part of my daily traverse on the way to pick up the kids from school leads me over the Rhine River.Some days I cross it preoccupied with the latest irritation or giggle, hardly even noticing the rushing of the waters under the bridge.Other days I laugh at the screaming swirling seagulls whose cries remind me of wailing babies, or I try to guess which people loitering on the bridge are tourists and from whence they came.<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />
Mostly, I am overwhelmed when I see it.Thinking of the poets and philosophers who have sat at its edge, perhaps dipping their toes into the water, gives me a chill.I wonder what the Romans thought when they encountered it?
Today when I crossed over the Mittelbruck, the waters were rushing because of melting snow from the Alps.Every molecule of water in that ancient raging river was new.Never before had that drop followed the same path—dripping from an icicle on the peak of a mountain, trailing over frosty rocks to join its brothers in a trickling stream, cold and gurgling, until it grew and spread and rushed and roared, becoming a source of life and poetry and industry.The Rhine is a thing of beauty and power and danger.It is eternal and ever new.
On a chilly day in December, 2007, my Nana set out. Off to the historical society, then to lecture in church—though she wasn’t feeling well, she knew she had to do it, because the churchgoers needed her—and finally back home. She took out the garbage, one last time, then only had a moment to take off one glove before she passed on. My beautiful Nana.
I miss her especially on days like today, when a touch of snow coats the trees and the sun is rising, painting the sky pink and pastel blue to match her eyes. And I think about how nice it would be to get a letter from her once more—her letters were so full of joy and delight in tiny details. That was how she lived her life. Nana embraced each day as an opportunity for love and life and laughter.
She would have been thrilled that we came to live in Basel, Switzerland, and sometimes I imagine the letters I would write to her about our latest adventures. It’s strange, because sometimes I see her here: in the face of the lady with the wool beret walking slowly across the Mittlebruck to savor the rushing Rhine below, in the eyes of the smartly dressed woman sitting next to me on the tram, in the delicate hands fussing with the petals of a rose in the flower shop. I see her walking with me down the cobbled alleys laughing up at the grotesque faces adorning the buildings. I hear her giggle in the trickle of the stream next to my apartment. Nana is always near me.
Ann - You are such a beautiful writer and I also loved your Nana. I only met her a few times but we connected in many ways. I lost my Mom on 8/30 and I really understand how our memories are in so many unexpected places. Tears come so often. Your family is having a life-changing experience so enjoy it. I believe you do. Keep writing and sharing - [email protected] or [email protected]
When you live somewhere for a while, you start to lose perspective. I imagine a family living at the top of the highest mountain would at first delight in every day, wonder at the heights and the everlasting sun above the clouds. But after a while, the inconveniences of everyday living would start to make their impressions. It can’t be easy to get food to the top of a mountain, it’s dangerous for the children, and it’s often chillingly cold. Eventually, though, these problems are overcome and life becomes routine.
We have lived in Basel, Switzerland for nearly three months now, and like the family on the mountain, I was amazed by the sights and the history and the newness of our situation. And then, the realities of overly frequent trips to the grocery store, of not understanding what the people on the trams are saying about my children’s noise, of daily discovering new rules that don’t seem to make sense, of everything shutting down on Sundays; these realities kicked in and I felt lost in my new world. The only stability in my routine was getting the kids to and from school. Everything else was sporadic and frantic, like I was swimming upward in an ever-deepening well. The honeymoon was over.
While there are still days like that, our family has settled in. Our discoveries are much less exciting sounding now—rather than finding a thousand year old skeleton being excavated behind the town hall, we find an easier way to get to school by bus instead of tram. Rather than discovering a castle on top of a hill, we find that we can order something from menu in German and know what to expect when the dish arrives. Rather than watching gladiators enact a battle in the ruins of a Roman theatre, we find a set of stairs that leads to a part of town we already know. These little discoveries have become victories. They are a part of our new life in Basel.
Although I still have to go to the grocery store almost every day, and I still have to collect the kids from school, I am becoming a new person here. My mind is expanding along with my world. And occasionally I am overwhelmed by the sight of the Rhine rushing below the bridge that is along my daily trek to school.
And I'm nervous about the change of moving to Wisconsin! :) Your life must be an adventure right now. Your family will grow so much with all of these new experiences!!
In less than a month, our family is up and moving to Basel, Switzerland. My husband and I have often talked about living abroad, maybe in France or England, but we never imagined that it would happen so soon! And we never considered Switzerland. Never. Still, the prospect is thrilling. Imagine seeing your kids, so young at 9 and 4, learning a new language and culture!
Last week, we went to visit for our “look-see”, to find an apartment and check out the schools for our kids. While it was thrilling to be back in Europe, the idea that we would be moving there so soon hovered over my head as heavily as the unusual humid 96 degrees (F). Maybe it affected me more than my husband because it was my first time there on business.
The first thing that struck me was the language barrier. Now, it may not be seen as much as a barrier, since most people in Basel speak enough English or even French, which we both studied. But on the first day I had a hard time even imagining myself understanding German. The sound of it is so foreign to my ears, the pronunciations were so different from the words on paper (or signs), and even the arrangement of the words in a sentence didn’t make sense. After a few days, we picked up a few useful phrases that allowed us to order a meal or a drink at a restaurant (weisswine, and grossesbier) and to say polite things. I was starting to really hear the language rather than a jumble of consonants, which might be the first step.
Another major adjustment is going to be the completely different lifestyle. I plan on embracing this. Other ex-pats we met were giving us advice about how to watch American TV, and how you can still make tacos without cheddar cheese. But maybe this shift in lifestyle will be good for our family. Maybe we won’t watch as much TV. Maybe we’ll learn to ski in the Alps. Maybe we’ll learn to yodel. Maybe not. I just hope that it will connect us more as a family.
Less than a month and we’ll be moving in to our apartment in Basel. In Europe! It is hard to believe. And with all the details that need to fall into place in the next month, it’s hard to imagine being there. One step at a time…
I have been doing a lot of waiting these days. Waiting for peers to read my WIP, waiting for paperwork to go through for our move to Basel, Switzerland, waiting for things to happen… It’s not easy for me, and I don’t know if it’s easy for anyone.
So what do I do in the meantime?
It’s easy to let stress take over and chomp at the bit for some action, but that is fruitless. And it makes me cranky. I can make lists—this I’m good at—lots of lists detailing things that need to happen, things we need to know, things I need to buy at the grocery store. But sometimes the lists get too long and start to seem overwhelming, especially when there are more things “to do” and not many crossed off.
The best thing to do is to enjoy the waiting time. Pay attention to the beautiful little moments that are happening all around. Like the goosebumps that stand your hairs up while you’re in line for the diving board, and the hot pavement under your bare dripping feet, and the clouds that are racing across the blue-blue sky. And breathe. Don’t forget to breathe.
1 Comments on And Now We Wait..., last added: 6/30/2010
I keep seeing her there under the water, just near the surface. Her arms flailed and her mouth was agape, but her eyes were the most striking. Their usually mischievous twinkle was replaced by sheer terror and panic. My sweet girl was fighting for just that moment.
Over and over I told them not to run on the dock. My son, 7, and daughter, age 2, would run back to shore, grab a handful of rocks and then run back to the dock to toss the rocks in. Ignoring my protests, again and again they ran back and forth while I sat and tried to untangle Ben’s fishing wire. And then I heard the splash. I immediately knew exactly what had happened.
In a second I was on my feet and there she was, under the surface. My nine years of lifeguarding experience kicked in to gear. Quickly assessing the situation, I realized that I couldn’t just reach her, I would have to jump. In a flash, I gently jumped in behind her and scooped her up under her arms, my feet sinking in the goopy mud and rocks making it hard to keep both her and my own head above the water. I spun her around and plopped her sitting on the edge of the dock. Then I finally took a breath.
Oh, sweet girl. It could have been so much worse. I am so thankful to God that it wasn’t.
We stripped her down out of her wet clothes; Dada offered her his shirt, long sleeved and blue. But she refused to put the sleeves on, instead baring her shoulders to the spring-warm sun. Her curls dripped still from the mud brown water, and she sucked her thumb, intensely trying to self-soothe.
By the time we started our picnic, she was over it. She laughed and chowed-down with her usual gusto. But I’ll never forget that moment. Her face, so close to tragedy, will always remind me of how precious life is.
For spring break my family and I went on a trip to Lake Cumberland, Kentucky. We stayed in a secluded cottage in the hills, far away from our normal routine. As with any trip ours was filled with adventures, and over the next few days, I’ll be writing about them.
1 Comments on A Trip to Lake Cumberland, KY, last added: 4/4/2009
I keep seeing her there under the water, just near the surface. Her arms flailed and her mouth was agape, but her eyes were the most striking. Their usually mischievous twinkle was replaced by sheer terror and panic. My sweet girl was fighting for just that moment.
Over and over I told them not to run on the dock. My son, 7, and daughter, age 2, would run back to shore, grab a handful of rocks and then run back to the dock to toss the rocks in. Ignoring my protests, again and again they ran back and forth while I sat and tried to untangle Ben’s fishing wire. And then I heard the splash. I immediately knew exactly what had happened.
In a second I was on my feet and there she was, under the surface. My nine years of lifeguarding experience kicked in to gear. Quickly assessing the situation, I realized that I couldn’t just reach her, I would have to jump. In a flash, I gently jumped in behind her and scooped her up under her arms, my feet sinking in the goopy mud and rocks making it hard to keep both her and my own head above the water. I spun her around and plopped her sitting on the edge of the dock. Then I finally took a breath.
Oh, sweet girl. It could have been so much worse. I am so thankful to God that it wasn’t.
We stripped her down out of her wet clothes; Dada offered her his shirt, long sleeved and blue. But she refused to put the sleeves on, instead baring her shoulders to the spring-warm sun. Her curls dripped still from the mud brown water, and she sucked her thumb, intensely trying to self-soothe.
By the time we started our picnic, she was over it. She laughed and chowed-down with her usual gusto. But I’ll never forget that moment. Her face, so close to tragedy, will always remind me of how precious life is.
For spring break my family and I went on a trip to Lake Cumberland, Kentucky. We stayed in a secluded cottage in the hills, far away from our normal routine. As with any trip ours was filled with adventures, and over the next few days, I’ll be writing about them.
0 Comments on A Trip to Lake Cumberland, KY as of 1/1/1900
Really. We saw stars last night. My family and I are on vacation deep in the hills surrounding Lake Cumberland, Kentucky, and when we got back to the cottage after grabbing dinner, we were stunned when we saw the sky. I can’t remember the last time that I saw such a bright natural glow shining from up there. My son, who just recently has taken up an interest in the stars, couldn’t believe the sky looked exactly like the constellation poster that hangs above his bed. Orion with his three starred belt was larger than life as he hunted the great bear, and Cassiopeia shone regally in her throne. The constellations hovered so low over the towering trees that I felt I could just reach up and poke my finger on their shiny points.
Even more amazing, though, was the beautiful darkness. With the wind whistling through the pine trees, spring peepers chirping from down in the creek, and blackness closing in on us, the stars showed us the vastness of the universe and all that was beyond.
It’s been so long since I had been surrounded by such darkness. It was both chilling and exciting at the same time. Immediately my mind set to wondering what sorts of creatures I couldn’t see lurking behind the trees, and a lovely thrill of goose bumps went up my arms and neck. Part of me wanted to run inside and slam the door against the unknown, while the other part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind and run out into the woods. Of course, my cowardly side won that battle.
While I’ll be happy to get back to my comfortable bed at home, getting away from our lovely suburban life once in a while is such a gift. We get to experience the true beauty of nature, to breathe it in and to get away from the pollution of noise and light and go-go-go
Really. We saw stars last night. My family and I are on vacation deep in the hills surrounding Lake Cumberland, Kentucky, and when we got back to the cottage after grabbing dinner, we were stunned when we saw the sky. I can’t remember the last time that I saw such a bright natural glow shining from up there. My son, who just recently has taken up an interest in the stars, couldn’t believe the sky looked exactly like the constellation poster that hangs above his bed. Orion with his three starred belt was larger than life as he hunted the great bear, and Cassiopeia shone regally in her throne. The constellations hovered so low over the towering trees that I felt I could just reach up and poke my finger on their shiny points.
Even more amazing, though, was the beautiful darkness. With the wind whistling through the pine trees, spring peepers chirping from down in the creek, and blackness closing in on us, the stars showed us the vastness of the universe and all that was beyond.
It’s been so long since I had been surrounded by such darkness. It was both chilling and exciting at the same time. Immediately my mind set to wondering what sorts of creatures I couldn’t see lurking behind the trees, and a lovely thrill of goose bumps went up my arms and neck. Part of me wanted to run inside and slam the door against the unknown, while the other part of me wanted to throw caution to the wind and run out into the woods. Of course, my cowardly side won that battle.
While I’ll be happy to get back to my comfortable bed at home, getting away from our lovely suburban life once in a while is such a gift. We get to experience the true beauty of nature, to breathe it in and to get away from the pollution of noise and light and go-go-go
For me, one of the hardest things to do is to revise my own work. It’s difficult for me to see the flaws, because I’ve usually read the words so many times that they become natural for me. Also, I’m usually so close to the writing that it just “feels” right. But I do understand that in order to get my best piece out there, I will have to do some major revisions.
My WIP right now is undergoing a massive revision. After attending the Prairie Writers’ Day conference in Chicago this fall, I realized that I needed to inject it with voice. The way it was, no one reading would really get to know the main characters, and that is key for good writing. I decided that the best way to do this is to rewrite it in the first person, thus hearing the story directly from the character herself.
The writers’ conference really helped me to look at my novel in a new way, but there are other ways to do this too. The best way is to have other people read it. Lots and lots of other people—and not just your mother and grandma, because as much as they love you, they might not be the most critical voices. I am a part of an amazing writers’ group—amazing because of the wide range of genres that we work in. There’s a children’s’ poetry author and fellow blogger, Kelly. Cathy has the eye of an editor, and she writes short stories. While Angela is part memoirist, part children’s storywriter, part editorialist. This range of eyes on my words can only make my work more scrutinized.
Another way to have your writing seen by others is to follow blogs such as Miss Snarks First Victim, and Nathan Bransford, or Legend of the Protectors, and hope that you enter their contests in time. On these blogs, you’ll get constructive criticism from other writers.
I have really appreciated all of the invaluable advice I’ve received from my readers, and my WIP is transforming from a lump of coal into something maybe just a bit shinier.
For me, one of the hardest things to do is to revise my own work. It’s difficult for me to see the flaws, because I’ve usually read the words so many times that they become natural for me. Also, I’m usually so close to the writing that it just “feels” right. But I do understand that in order to get my best piece out there, I will have to do some major revisions.
My WIP right now is undergoing a massive revision. After attending the Prairie Writers’ Day conference in Chicago this fall, I realized that I needed to inject it with voice. The way it was, no one reading would really get to know the main characters, and that is key for good writing. I decided that the best way to do this is to rewrite it in the first person, thus hearing the story directly from the character herself.
The writers’ conference really helped me to look at my novel in a new way, but there are other ways to do this too. The best way is to have other people read it. Lots and lots of other people—and not just your mother and grandma, because as much as they love you, they might not be the most critical voices. I am a part of an amazing writers’ group—amazing because of the wide range of genres that we work in. There’s a children’s’ poetry author and fellow blogger, Kelly. Cathy has the eye of an editor, and she writes short stories. While Angela is part memoirist, part children’s storywriter, part editorialist. This range of eyes on my words can only make my work more scrutinized.
Another way to have your writing seen by others is to follow blogs such as Miss Snarks First Victim, and Nathan Bransford, or Legend of the Protectors, and hope that you enter their contests in time. On these blogs, you’ll get constructive criticism from other writers.
I have really appreciated all of the invaluable advice I’ve received from my readers, and my WIP is transforming from a lump of coal into something maybe just a bit shinier.
What an amazing day to be an American. As I watched Barack Obama being sworn in I was thrilled by the moment in history that we all are sharing, especially coming on the heels of Martin Luther King Jr. day! There is hope!
What an amazing day to be an American. As I watched Barack Obama being sworn in I was thrilled by the moment in history that we all are sharing, especially coming on the heels of Martin Luther King Jr. day! There is hope!
Lately, as it always happens when the cold weather comes, I’ve been wishing away the winter. I’ve been dreaming of escaping. It has to be somewhere warm—shorts weather—and sunny and sandy with warm blue water that I can swim in. Hey, I’d settle for somewhere I could go and just wear a sweater instead of my fifty-pound coat and all the other accoutrements. I’ve even been singing the Beach Boys’ song “Kokomo”, which always seems to make me feel a bit warmer inside.
Then yesterday I had a thought. Instead of escaping the cold, shouldn’t I just try to embrace it? So, driving over the icy snow-covered roads at twenty miles below the speed limit, passing cars in the ditch, I thought to myself—“Look! I can still get around.” And watching the sun come up over the horizon this morning, I thought, “Hey, the snow makes that pink sun look even brighter.” It is pretty fun to go sledding and to make snow angels with my kids. Why should I wish all of this away?
Besides the constantly salty muddy footprints tracking in on my kitchen floor? And the fact that it takes me twenty minutes longer to get the kids ready to head out the door? And the fact that the ice is now seeping inside and frosting up our windows? And the cracking dry skin on my hands? And the static in the air?
We did have a lovely wimpy sun shining in the piercing blue sky today…
I’m struggling here to find the positive, but I can’t wish the days away because that would just mean that my sweet wee ones would only grow up faster. Think, Ann, think!
Warm slippers…piling as many fluffy blankets on my bed as possible… fires in the fireplace… hot cocoa… snow days… pink cheeks and red noses… cuddling with my family to stay warm…
It’s not so bad, is it?
0 Comments on Desperately Seeking Summer as of 1/1/1900
I so don't like winter...but it does make you appreciate the other seasons all the more! And it is the only time I make hot cocoa with marshmallows for all of us!
Lately, as it always happens when the cold weather comes, I’ve been wishing away the winter. I’ve been dreaming of escaping. It has to be somewhere warm—shorts weather—and sunny and sandy with warm blue water that I can swim in. Hey, I’d settle for somewhere I could go and just wear a sweater instead of my fifty-pound coat and all the other accoutrements. I’ve even been singing the Beach Boys’ song “Kokomo”, which always seems to make me feel a bit warmer inside.
Then yesterday I had a thought. Instead of escaping the cold, shouldn’t I just try to embrace it? So, driving over the icy snow-covered roads at twenty miles below the speed limit, passing cars in the ditch, I thought to myself—“Look! I can still get around.” And watching the sun come up over the horizon this morning, I thought, “Hey, the snow makes that pink sun look even brighter.” It is pretty fun to go sledding and to make snow angels with my kids. Why should I wish all of this away?
Besides the constantly salty muddy footprints tracking in on my kitchen floor? And the fact that it takes me twenty minutes longer to get the kids ready to head out the door? And the fact that the ice is now seeping inside and frosting up our windows? And the cracking dry skin on my hands? And the static in the air?
We did have a lovely wimpy sun shining in the piercing blue sky today…
I’m struggling here to find the positive, but I can’t wish the days away because that would just mean that my sweet wee ones would only grow up faster. Think, Ann, think!
Warm slippers…piling as many fluffy blankets on my bed as possible… fires in the fireplace… hot cocoa… snow days… pink cheeks and red noses… cuddling with my family to stay warm…
It’s not so bad, is it?
0 Comments on Desperately Seeking Summer as of 1/1/1900
We're homebound again on this wintery day in northern Illinois. They're expecting about eight inches throughout the day. So rather than fighting the traffic and the snow covered roads, I thought I'd snuggle up with my coffee and enjoy the snow from inside, maybe read some poetry.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though, He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
We're homebound again on this wintery day in northern Illinois. They're expecting about eight inches throughout the day. So rather than fighting the traffic and the snow covered roads, I thought I'd snuggle up with my coffee and enjoy the snow from inside, maybe read some poetry.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though, He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
The holidays are such a lovely time—the decorations, the cookies, the caroling, the cookies, the sleeping in (finally my kids are learning how to sleep past 6!), the cookies, wearing pajamas all day long and not bothering to shower… But honestly, by the time New Year’s drags its weary butt across my path, I’m ready for the holidays to be over. I love spending time with my family, but I was overjoyed when my son went back to school yesterday.
That wild, out of control feeling that you get on the first day of vacation thrills old and young alike. It’s the feeling of freedom from the grind of daily regimens, from people telling you what to do all day long, from, well, structure. I love a bit of spontaneity, but I’ve discovered that I can only stand so much chaos.
I dropped the kids off at school yesterday—usually one of the more mundane tasks in the line up—and as I drove away the word Routine eased itself into a smile on my face. Routine is like a deep breath, even in the most stressful times you can always count on it. It’s reliable, it’s expected, and it’s calming. It graces every aspect of my life—as a mother, an athlete, and especially as writer. Knowing that at a certain time each day I will be sitting down to work on my WIP or brainstorming something new sets my mind free.
So, goodbye vacation, I enjoyed our little fling, but now it’s time to get back to my steady Routine.
I agree! I loved the sleeping in a bit, but the chaos can get to be a little much! I've gotten so much done in the last two days! (and HAVE to get these decorations down, I have been procrastinating on that!)
The holidays are such a lovely time—the decorations, the cookies, the caroling, the cookies, the sleeping in (finally my kids are learning how to sleep past 6!), the cookies, wearing pajamas all day long and not bothering to shower… But honestly, by the time New Year’s drags its weary butt across my path, I’m ready for the holidays to be over. I love spending time with my family, but I was overjoyed when my son went back to school yesterday.
That wild, out of control feeling that you get on the first day of vacation thrills old and young alike. It’s the feeling of freedom from the grind of daily regimens, from people telling you what to do all day long, from, well, structure. I love a bit of spontaneity, but I’ve discovered that I can only stand so much chaos.
I dropped the kids off at school yesterday—usually one of the more mundane tasks in the line up—and as I drove away the word Routine eased itself into a smile on my face. Routine is like a deep breath, even in the most stressful times you can always count on it. It’s reliable, it’s expected, and it’s calming. It graces every aspect of my life—as a mother, an athlete, and especially as writer. Knowing that at a certain time each day I will be sitting down to work on my WIP or brainstorming something new sets my mind free.
So, goodbye vacation, I enjoyed our little fling, but now it’s time to get back to my steady Routine.
Trying to keep up with two kids instead of the usual one has kept me away from my computer, so I'm just popping in to wish everyone a happy New Year! I'll be back in action after the holidays and after my son goes back to school.
Meanwhile enjoy this lovely rendition of Auld Lang Syne!
Trying to keep up with two kids instead of the usual one has kept me away from my computer, so I'm just popping in to wish everyone a happy New Year! I'll be back in action after the holidays and after my son goes back to school.
Meanwhile enjoy this lovely rendition of Auld Lang Syne!
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Grandmas are special. She's smiling right now.
Ann - You are such a beautiful writer and I also loved your Nana. I only met her a few times but we connected in many ways. I lost my Mom on 8/30 and I really understand how our memories are in so many unexpected places. Tears come so often. Your family is having a life-changing experience so enjoy it. I believe you do. Keep writing and sharing -
[email protected] or [email protected]