Village Life in the Winter

Since we have not yet made our annual sojourn to Florida, we have had plenty of opportunity to reacquaint ourselves with winter life in upstate New York. We have added new cold weather clothes to our wardrobes and dug out some things we had questioned whether we would ever need again, like ski gloves. Good thing. The cold has taken a bit of getting used to what with our being so accustomed to warm weather year around.

While some days are dark and dreary—it’s often cloudy, and the sun sets an hour earlier here than in Florida—winter skies can be gorgeous, not only with brilliant colors but with the contrasting shapes of bare limbed trees silhouetted against the evening sky.  My walks through the woods have been fun as well. I caught glimpses of Canada geese on the pond nearby until it became almost completely frozen over. Then they left. It was kind of sad when I no longer heard their honking calls, but I could understand their need to go south. The main pleasure has come from day after day of light snow on the ground, enabling me to track small animals as well as whitetail deer. Squirrels and voles have created runs on their daily forays. I’ve also been able to track a gray fox.

Tracking animals can be as exciting as glimpsing the animals themselves. Sometimes more so. Tracking their movements is like solving a puzzle, looking for the next piece needed to fill in a complete picture of what they have been up to, undisturbed by my presence.

Of course, after spending a couple of hours in the freezing cold, there’s nothing like cup of hot tea or cocoa to put a warm cap on the afternoon’s explorations. Sitting out back and watching the birds, and sometimes an alligator, down south is certainly enjoyable and another way to relish a good cuppa, but coming in from the cold to a hot drink is its own special pleasure.

Naturally, our wintry stay has stirred thoughts about how Bobby Navarro would take on the winter season. Knowing how Bobby loves to get out on an open road in the southwest where he can see from one horizon to the other, I have to ask myself how he would respond to these days of darkness and cold. I think the answer is likely that he would get outside as often as he could. He is an outdoor guy. He would enjoy filling his lungs with the crisp freshness of the winter air. I suspect he would thrill to the feel of freezing wind against his face just as he loves the rush of wind off the high desert when he’s on his Harley.

So, am I going to put Bobby in a wintry situation in an upcoming novel? I’ve been asking myself that very question. Any thoughts?

Reflections and Resolutions for 2019

I enjoy being reflective this time of year. I think that’s connected with why I like to make New Year’s resolutions. It’s a time to think over the past year and attempt some tweaking of the way I’ve bee  engaging life. I’m feeling pleased regarding the resolutions I made for the present year. I don’t mean that boastfully, and I can’t say I either fulfilled my resolutions completely or kept them with steadfast dedication. I have a long way to go. But, I did make progress on the things I resolved to do and maintained the effort all year. Good enough. I must admit though, I went for improvement rather than specific, quantifiable goals, even though that was against advice given in the media. To each his own.

So, for this New Years, I intend to keep working on last year’s resolves, strengthened by a sense that progress is doable and the results rewarding. But, my reflections over the past year won’t let me keep it at that. I suspect there are many of us who feel concern reflecting over the past months. I’m not going to go into great detail in this regard either, in case you were worried. I engage in too much of that kind of reflection every day I read the news and learn about the latest atrocity or inexplicable blunder on the world scene, especially when our own country is partially or heavily culpable.

What kind of New Year’s resolution regarding national and world events would be called for in the case of an average citizens such as myself? Get out and vote? I did. I suspect there are a range of answers, and I’m hoping those reading this blog will give thought to sharing their ideas on the matter. I can try reading and watching less news, but that only provides me a little insulation and does nothing to address the issues. So, here’s my thought. It was inspired by things I’ve read recently concerning the term “liberal”. I’ve always been comfortable owning something of a liberal identity—I went to Berkeley, how could I not? But, I never embraced change simply for the sake of difference. I have always felt it worthwhile to maintain those parts of our past that have value. I suppose that makes me a little conservative as well. The problem is, these terms have both become political slurs. So, liberalism and conservatism aside, I intend to reflect on my core values and give myself a refresher course in their use in my daily life. Really. It’s easy to take one’s core values for granted. It can be self-enlightening to examine how they play out in daily behavior. I can recall philosophy classes in which this was an intentional, thought-provoking challenge.

On an entirely different matter, my mystery writing is not intended as a New Year’s reflection/resolution exercise. It’s supposed to be entertaining, and I’m still feeling excited to have my latest Bobby Navarro mystery, Murder in Key Largo, available through Amazon and Kindle. Here is a link for anyone who would like to take a peek at his latest adventure: https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Key-Largo-Navarro-Mystery-ebook/dp/B07L4Q5J15/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1546211608&sr=8-2&keywords=Murder+in+Key+Largo

Hot Cocoa and a Snowy Day

There’s nothing like a mug of hot cocoa on winter’s day. Lesley dug out some marshmallows that were left over from a camping trip with my son’s last spring to add to the treat. I had forgotten how well they topped off a hot cup of cocoa. Tasty and fun. It took me back more years than I want to acknowledge to when I was a kid in California. Then, it was hot chocolate made with milk heated in a pot over the gas burner of our stove. (That was before we moved to the hills and reverted to using a wood stove.) Hot chocolate. It was  also the best accompaniment to a grilled cheese sandwich ever. That, along with a cup of tomato soup, was a real lunch treat for my sister and me. You know, it still sounds good. I still love grilled cheese. Come to think of it, I haven’t had tomato soup in years . I don’t even know if I like it anymore, but it sounds good.

When we moved from Oakland to the northern California hills, I got my first taste of snow.  Literally. We were coming home from school, and the bus couldn’t make it all the way. Stranded in the snow. We had to walk about four and a half miles to get home. Mom was waiting for us, worried but thankful to have us there safe. After getting us dried off and thawed out, she made something she called “snow cream”, a cup of snow mixed with canned milk and maple syrup. We thought it was terrific, but then, we were kids. These days, I’m sure I would prefer French Vanilla ice cream or frozen custard.

We didn’t have snow often where we lived, just occasionally. Most of the winter, it was  just cold. For college, I moved back to the bay area, but I got a refresher course in winter snow when I was in the navy and in New Port, Rhode Island. I remember going to a Christmas midnight mass during a snowstorm. Everyone was heavily bundled, and you could see your breath when you talked. Several inches of snow made everything feel like living in a Currier and Ives scene. That night still stands out as a special Christmas experience.

On another occasion, I was at a donut shop in New Port. Several kids sat at the other end of the counter, enjoying donuts and hot cocoa. One of them wasn’t taking part in the eating and drinking. A portly beat cop demanded in a loud voice to know why that one wasn’t having anything. He said he wasn’t hungry and didn’t want anything. One of the other kids said it was because he didn’t have any money. The cop, in the same loud voice, told the wait person to give the kid a hot cocoa and whatever kind of donuts he wanted. The young boy tried to turn down the offer, but the cop told him he would either “. . .eat it or wear it”. Some police officers know the street–and care. They can be great. I think some are still out there.

I like to think Bobby Navarro would be the kind of guy who would notice a young boy in a group of kids doing without in order to at least be a part of the group. I don’t think such a boy would turn down a command to accept a couple of donuts and mug of hot cocoa from a biker like Bobby either.

Funny how something like a mug of hot cocoa can stir memories of cold days past. How about you?

 

Warm Winter Thoughts

We received a good eight inches of the white stuff outside the other day, and it seems to be lasting. The forecast is snow off-and-on for the foreseeable future, and it’s snowing outside as I write this blog. Lesley keeps mentioning that we made a mistake in delaying our trek south. Since we’d rather not have to drive through snow, especially through Pennsylvania, we keep trying to look ahead for a break in the weather, but we haven’t noticed anything encouraging. She doesn’t care for the cold weather. Even one of our cats seems to be spending his time on an upstairs bed looking out a window at the whitened landscape as though he feels trapped inside. We’ve been trying to tell him as an indoor cat he is always trapped inside, but he seems to feel this is different.

In a way, I’ve been trapped inside too–by projects like making a plumbing repair in the basement. And, my forays outside have had mainly to do with shoveling snow. It’s been years since I’ve done that. Good thing we kept a snow shovel. After these “outings” I’ve opted for a mug of hot chocolate rather than finding out if I still remember how to ski. I keep putting that moment off until my indoor obligations are tended to.

Not complaining, mind you. It’s been great weather for hearty seafood chowder, bean soup, and other comfort- food-and-drink appropriate to the season. I’ve always loved fall and winter as seasons for baking and roasting. Root vegetables have taken over the daily indulgence in sautéed kale, steamed pole beans, and fresh salads. I guess Lesley is right, I tend to think with my stomach. Not surprising that I put my series protagonist, Bobby Navarro, on a cattle ranch in the southwest learning how to cook like a sourdough in his debut novel. The other day I read over a notebook I had kept on some earlier cross-country rides of my own to do research for that book. It was impressive reliving some of the rides I encountered on those trips. A lot of rough weather and difficult driving conditions, but great encounters with interesting people, too.

Well, people say you should write what you know. I also think you should write what you love, what you have a passion for. Presumably, that passion spills over into your writing, inspires your imagination and drives your work. No, that doesn’t mean I have a passion for murder, but I do have tireless fascination with people. Like other writers, I’m an incurable people-watcher. So is Bobby. It’s one of the things he loves about being on the road. Another is being in the outdoors, and simply being on the road itself.

Speaking of the outdoors, I’ve been loving the snow in spite of the need for shoveling. I have managed to get out a few times for extended walks, and I might dig out those old cross-country skis yet. In the meantime, Bobby’s latest adventure has been formatted for publication, and I’m looking forward to seeing Murder in Key Largo finally make its way into print. How is the onset of the season affecting you?

At the Start of the Storm

Magical Beans

I learned early in life that a beanstalk might grow up into the sky, into the land of giants. I never did understand why giants would live up in the sky, their being so big and heavy and all. Of course, I’m talking about Jack and his magical beans. As it turns out, his exploit was the only one I recall having turned out that way, although our experience seemed to be headed in that direction for a while.

Last summer we tried growing pole beans. I don’t have any previous experience growing them, so I was anxious to see how they would turn out. The woman who provided us the beans to start with was at a local nursery. She had run out of pole beans to sell but gave me a few from her own store, warning me that they would grow to a considerable height. Sound ominous yet?

We happily planted the beans and I built a framework to provide a trellis for the vines to grow on. It was around eight feet in height, so I figured that would be plenty tall enough. Amazingly, the beanstalks grew even beyond the top of the framework. The beans they produced were delicious, and we both agreed to give them another try this year.

Again, there were no beans available at the stores and nurseries in the area, but a neighbor gave us a few beans she had on hand. Do you see a possible pattern here? We planted the beans and waited in anticipation. They certainly grew well in terms of climbing the trellising I had built. However, it seemed to take a long time for them to produce any blossoms, let alone beans. Lesley gave up on them, but I held onto my belief they would do something eventually. And, eventually they did.

I thought the beans delicious, although Lesley said they tasted strange.  Undeterred, I  ate them along with fresh kale we had grown as well. As before, the stalks grew beyond the top of the trellis and proved quite fruitful. I finally let them mature to the point where the beans inside the pods could develop then dry on the vine. I shelled the dried pods and was impressed to find the yield nearly three pounds of beans from the few stalks we had planted. 

I was intrigued by the way the beans adsorbed the pod inside which they were attached from their vegetable umbilical cords, or umbilical threads, and grew into miniature  nutrient storehouses. It was like discovering the magic of food production all over again. I had tended our vegetable garden when I was a kid and delighted in the tastes of carrots and radishes and tomatoes picked and eaten on the spot. For most of my adult life however I have looked to grocery isles in the local supermarket as the source of fresh produce. It has been a treat to rediscover growing some of our own.

From what I read in the news, a lot of people are returning to locally grown produce and planting gardens all over the country. I hope others enjoy the sense of magic through this experience as I did. Of course, I had to ask myself whether my protagonist, Bobby Navarro, would have any gardening experience in his life. For the most part, I think the enjoyment and magic of a vegetable garden would not be practical for Bobby. He spends too much of his time on the road. But, that’s important too. Sometimes our characters are defined by things they don’t have, or do, as well as the things they do. When I was pitching my first book to an editor at a conference, I said, “Looking for a home is what keeps him on the road”. She made me stop and write that down. She said it  was a compelling description of Bobby’s character, defining him by something missing in his life. 

I wouldn’t say not having a garden makes one’s life incomplete, but having one can help enrich it. How about you? Is gardening a part of what makes your life good? Remember, there might be some magic in those beans.

Picking Those Magic Beans

A Portentous Season

 

I watched a tree squirrel from the window as it hopped across the front of the house to the flower garden at the side, where it buried a nut beneath a hydrangea bush. I was taking the morning off. The squirrel was busy as usual. Not that I haven’t been busy. Whenever the weather half permitted, I worked to finish the tag ends of summer projects that still await completion. I mowed the yard the other days as well, and for a few hours the yellow and brown carpet of fallen leaves that had covered the ground was only to be seen at the edges of the yard beneath the bare flower stalks and leafless shrubs.  Of course, today the carpet has returned in increased measure.

The other day, I surprised a deer in the backyard. We seldom see them, or evidence of their passing, although they use the yard as a thoroughfare during the winter. I think she was checking out the garden, perhaps assessing the height of the fence I built to keep out the woodchuck that insists on using the  stream bank as a place for its burrow. I’ve been letting the pole beans mature and look forward to harvesting the beans from the dried pods. Maybe she was eyeing them.

Fall has settled around the village in a sudden blanket of seasonal change. Not much color in the trees, for the most part. The leaves seem to be turning brown and falling, a simple capitulation to summer’s end. The weather is still pretty warm and remains cloudy and rainy. I would like to enjoy some dry, crisp days before the cold sets in. Don’t know if that is in the cards.

Yesterday, they held a demolition derby at the fairgrounds down the street. The entrants were paraded in on trailer beds all morning, and the you could hear their engines defiant roaring as participants crashed into each other until only the winner was able to continue movement. It’s a popular sport in these parts, although having lived in Los Angeles and driven in New York city and Boston I find it difficult to understand the attraction. Making-do with what you have seems more consistent with village life than intentionally ramming a vehicle that still runs well into another one. It is popular, though.

Life in a village sometimes seems to provide an immunity from outer social chaos. Here, everything appears to be readying for the season to come. Geese are gathering, squirrels are stockpiling supplies, crops are being harvested and put away for the months ahead. Life feels almost normal, a combination of satisfaction and relaxation from summer’s endeavors and an adrenalin rush to prepare for the coming months. It usually offers a dazzling celebration of life. This year, that social insulation from the outer world has proved somewhat thin, and fall is simply slipping into whatever lies ahead. Time to get those projects finished and get back to writing another Bobby Navarro adventure. How about you? Is fall a time of pumpkins and pies, or a time of darkening days and menacing goblins?

What Readers Enjoy Reading

We were talking about this the other day, not a new topic for conversation, and Lesley commented about a cozy she was reading as being rather plain. The characters weren’t all that remarkable, or even very different from each other. There was little in the way of action, and nothing very exciting when it occurred. I asked why people would enjoy reading that, and she suggested people might find the characters and plot more relatable than some fiction. After all, many people don’t lead particularly exciting lives, albeit they may live from one crisis to the next. They may find it enjoyable and relaxing to read about lives that are not crisis-ridden and filled with threats of world destruction. We have enough of that in our real lives with international tensions, terrorist attacks and people venting their anger at coworkers, or even strangers, with assault weapons.

Our discussion led me to think about popular media drama, past and present. Certainly, Mayberry did not involve the sheriff in anything catastrophic. The episodes of Barney Miller never dealt with crazed gunmen or terrorists. They were light entertainment. A chance to enjoy a short escape from one’s workday, family problems, or community and world events. Some programs got us thinking about social issues. All in the Family gave us an entertaining look at a working-class family learning to cope with social change, including racial relations.

Today, there seems to be an interest in superheroes. I’m not into that, but I can’t help but wonder if superheroes saving the world from supervillains is ‘safer’ than trusting the world’s survival to a single individual ‘licensed to kill’ who we can always trust to ultimately do the right thing. There’s enough faith vested in individual world leaders today to use up every last shred of trust out there, I’m sure. Better to let imaginary heroes fight the good fight for a while.

So, when we look at murder mysteries, how exciting should plot and characters be? Is it more comforting to have a sleuth bake a batch of cookies while solving a murder rather than become entangled in life-threatening danger? Or, is that too blah? I enjoy Agatha Christie, but I would never think of her characters as blah. I love Robert Parker, but his heroes have a heart, even if they find it necessary to kill someone from time to time. For the most part, I don’t care to see the world exploding in nuclear devastation, even though the hero escapes to save the world yet another day. So, what kind of characters do people love to read, and what is it they find appealing? Any thoughts?

As far as my own series goes, I’m still happy with Bobby Navarro. He’s not a superhero, but he is willing to take on a challenge for the right cause, like solving a murder because it’s the right thing to do. Meanwhile, the weather is fall-like and beautiful, and the day is right to go for a hike around a nearby pond with some friends. How is your fall taking off?

Empathy-a powerful tool for writers

Empathy—a powerful tool for writers

Empathy—the ability to feel another’s perspective. It’s a fascinating subject. Empathy can provide a useful tool for survival, such as improving one’s ability to anticipate the moves of an adversary or envisioning the likely response of an opponent to one’s own actions. We see this portrayed in stories of hostage situations in which a victim is able to thwart an armed attacker by getting into their head and appealing to base emotions.

I suppose empathy can be weaponized. I think that is the basis of psychological warfare. Empathetic understanding can be associated with criminal profiling. But, using empathetic understanding for better communication and fostering of improved social relations has greater appeal to me. Empathy can bring insights into the behavior of colleagues, family and friends. It can help one understand the actions and motives of others. I remember my mother talking with a young boy who was jabbing a stick into the earth alongside a shallow ditch. He revealed that he was unhappy in his family’s recent move “to a place where a kid can’t even dig a hole without getting in trouble.”

 Empathetic understanding can be especially important to writers. It can help a writer to understand the feelings and motives of a villain, providing for a more interesting and believable bad guy. This is particularly important as mystery novels increasingly emphasize character complexity. Since a writer must depict a whole cast of characters, good empathetic understanding enriches our portrayal of characters in addition to the villain.

Empathetic skill is important to the writer while conducting research for a novel. It’s not enough to learn about facts and events we want to use in a novel, we need to gain and portray the way people we are writing about, or who have inspired our writing, felt when they did what we want to write about. Those feelings must so permeate our understanding of the people we write about that attitudes and motives will come through in how our fictional characters talk, act, and interact. Their feelings must be more than an analytic deduction, they must be ingrained by the writer and infuse the writing.

Admittedly, some people are simply more empathetic than others. But, can empathy be developed as a skill? I think so. As with most things, practice leads to perfection. We can ask ourselves how people we observe, or study must feel about something. We can consciously ask ourselves what our friends and colleagues seem to feel as we interact with them in a host of differing situations. As we people-watch, and I suspect most writers are people-watchers, we can seek glimmers of empathetic understanding of the behaviors we observe and not simply listen to dialogue or look for amusing situations and characters. I think empathy can be one focus of attention, and that we can improve our ability to employ it with conscious practice.

I don’t portray Bobby Navarro, my series protagonist, as being particularly empathetic. He’s a biker, a blaster, and a loner. But, he’s a people-watcher. And, he solves murders because he cares about people, especially the young and vulnerable. He was able to understand the feelings of a young woman who was a bit of a marginalized individual in Murder on the Mother Road and gain important information leading to solving the murder in that story. Perhaps there’s a little empathetic capability in most of us. It just needs to be developed. What do you think?

County Fair Time

This past weekend brought the county fair to our neighborhood. Local farmers started bringing in livestock several days in advance of the opening, along with numerous food vendors. The carnival company trucked its equipment in late at night just before opening day. Watching the traffic build on the street that runs past our house was like a preview of things to come, with an increasing tempo leading up to fair day and the sudden appearance of fairgoers taking advantage of the seasonal highlight. Of course, the big question as opening day approached, was what the weather would be like. This year, it was hot and humid, but not rainy for most of the fair, although we’ve had almost nothing but rain since.

Because we live close to the fairground, we were able to sit on our deck and look down the stream to enjoy the fireworks display the first night of the fair. As always, it was an impressive display. Of course, we also had to pay our visit to the fair itself and walk around the grounds looking at the animals, exhibits, and crowds. It’s an annual must-do for us. This year we were strict in watching our diets and gave up the fair food indulgences in favor of our own cooking. That wasn’t easy. County fairs mean cotton candy, barbecue, and fried dough, and much more. But we were good. Since we’ve been enjoying fresh vegetables from our garden and our local Amish stand so much, it was not all that big of a sacrifice. Holding off on indulging in the ice cream available down the street in the other direction has presented a bigger challenge. I love ice cream. County fairs bring up childhood memories for both Lesley and me. They’re one of the joys of summer.

Our frequent drives through the hills around the area have provided another pleasure, watching the seasonal tableau change. The corn is now high, with brown spikes adorning their tops, a declaration of maturity. Rows of rolled up hay line cut fields, most of them wrapped in plastic to protect against weather. In the untilled areas, several ‘crops’ of wildflowers have bloomed. Splashes of goldenrod and roadside boarder strips of white topped Queen Ann’s lace have replaced views of meadows filled with dandelions earlier in the year. Brown spikes of curly dock provide occasional accents, along with a stalk of mullein here and there. Soon, fields will be muted in dusky shades of late summer, and grasses will turn brown. Right now, everything is still green, from all the rain we’ve been getting although tree leaves are a couple of shades lighter. We feel lucky not to be dealing with the wildfires of the west.

When I first came east, the lush green everywhere overwhelmed me. I felt claustrophobic. Now, I see it as a seasonal state. I’ve also become more aware of the many subtle changes in the landscape as the seasons progress and love to observe them. I think living in the countryside has made that possible. The fields, forest plots and farms offer a much richer and closer connection to the environment. It’s an advantage of village life and country living I treasure.

Now, I must push through the final stages of publication of my latest Bobby Navarro mystery so I can get to work on the next adventure, and the next setting. I’ve gotten behind. I’ll blame it on the weather. Of course, there’s always work to be done on the cottage. That’s been held up by the weather as well. Not complaining, mind you. I love summer. How about you? What does summer mean in your life? What changes in the seasons do you watch for, and enjoy?

 

Village Life and Country Living

I like to write about village life. It’s not only because we live at the edge of a village in upstate New York surrounded by farming country, but also because village life is so interesting. Of course, villages and small towns are settings for cozy murder mysteries, and I write murder mysteries. However, this weekend, I’m writing about village life because of the interaction we have enjoyed with our neighbors. Yesterday, we had an appointment in town (a nearby small city) and decided to swing by our favorite farm produce stand on the way home. It’s run by an Amish family and features fabulous organic vegetables. We bought a pattypan squash, a large tomato, and some pole beans. The young woman tending the stand asked me if the pattypan were for sandwiches. She was the one who introduced me to using pattypan squash in this way. I admitted to having become hooked on these sandwich treats and, as we talked, another customer behind me started asking questions about how I make them. Another convert in the making? That would be my bet, if he tries them.

I’m not saying this sort of interaction wouldn’t happen at one of the supermarkets in a city, or anywhere else, but it seems more characteristic of life here in the village. Like, the other day when one of our neighbors dropped by with a container of fresh blackberries from her garden. I later made a blackberry buckle with them. Delicious. She knows I love blackberries, and we look forward to her company at tea time (an afternoon must at our place). Last summer we were kept in raspberries and blackberries all season by this same neighbor. In return, we sent her home with bundles of fresh kale leaves and bowls of cherry tomatoes from our garden. In fact, I think we should plant an extra row of kale next year with these exchanges in mind.

Last weekend we went to a backyard picnic for a neighbor pushing her nineties. The weather had been brutal, but that day was terrific. We sat outside and feasted on hamburgers, hotdogs, and dishes everyone had brought to pass. It was a good chance to see neighbors we haven’t talked with more than a passing hello all summer. There were also people we didn’t know. We were introduced as “the authors”. I don’t know if anyone there had read my Bobby Navarro novels, but didn’t feel any need to slip into sales mode either.

The other means of village identity we seem to own is that we live in the “old _______ house”. The house has been in existence since 1874, so I can hardly object to its having a more established identity in the community than we do. I remember meeting and talking with the former owner whose family name still defines the house when we first moved in. He shared some childhood memories of a flood when their barn was washed downstream during the night. I enjoyed his visit.

Not everyone in the village likes everyone else. We don’t all share the same religious beliefs, or political orientation. We’re not necessarily dedicated to the same values and beliefs. But, we’re neighbors in the village, and that counts for something. I like that. I think these are times when we need more of that village spirit. We don’t all need to be alike, but we do need to recognize that, one way or another, we’re people of the same village.