What We Love - No, Really! - About Winter

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING:  I have a confession to make, dear readers. Sometimes, we all jump onto our weekly conversations the night before they're posted. Other times, we plan ahead, and everyone adds their six cents worth well before the time you get to see it on this blog.

As you might imagine, I'm usually the night-before gal, apologizing for slapping a subject up six hours before I need to post it. But this time, because of my trip to Hawaii and spending New Years at a friend's house, I was way ahead of myself. Way, way ahead. Which is why, on December 18th, I asked everyone what they loved about winter.

I know. There hasn't been a topic so ill-timed since we almost ran the one about why we loved Harvey Weinstein movies in early October.

But despite the fact that we've just gone through the bomb cyclone (aka, a Nor'easter) and what's stretching into weeks of sub-zero temperatures, despite the fact both downstairs drains have cracked from ice accumulation and I need to bail out my kitchen sink every four hours, despite the fact my 275 gallon furnace ran out of oil 18 days after I had it filled and in the process clogged up my water heater so I have no hot water...

There are still things I love about winter.

Stew. Hot, creamy soups, potato, chowder, squash. The beauty of fields blanketed in snow and trees sparkling with ice. Snuggling together on the sofa in front of the woodstove and watching THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW while a snow storm blows outside (a family tradition.) Reading in front of the fire. Lighting candles, wrapping up in blankets and and going full hygge. Visiting friends (in Maine, we're all so busy soaking up the short summer, winter is when we socialize.) The symphony and the theater season.

So even though it feels like I'm living at the bottom of a crevasse in Antarctica right now, I do love winter. Reds?

DEBORAH CROMBIE: Not that our winters are as cold as yours! But still, we have a couple of cold months ahead. I love the sense of dormancy, of the world resting up for spring. I love not having huge air conditioning bills!!!! (Our heat is gas, so our winter bills are about a third as much as high summer...) I love curling up in front of the fire. Furry throws and down comforters. And I LOVE winter soups and stews. I don't even mind the shorter days. (Having lived in Scotland, it's all relative...) Maybe I have some secret Danish ancestors!

Now if we could just have a few good snows--without Texas ice!

 HALLIE EPHRON: What I love about winter…

Scraping ice off the windshield.

Shoveling snow.

Turning paler than the underbelly of a flounder.

Cold toilet seats.

Wearing so many layers I feel like the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

Chopping wood… only kidding.

No, I cannot honestly say there are a ton of things I love about winter except… the days ARE getting longer, cardinals and juncos and chickadees and titmice hang out in the yard, and when it comes, spring is SO SWEET (and short).

(Debs, ice IS the worst.)

DEBS: P.S. As much as I enjoy my garden seven or eight months out of the year, I LOVE not having the constant chores and the watering! Happy to look out at my bare yard and watch the squirrels frolic.

HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN:  I love when it snows and snows and snows. But only IF we are home, and  DURING the snow. It's gorgeous, and magical, and transporting. However. After that interlude it's an enormous pain.  I actually love going to the grocery store before a storm, when everyone is panic buying, because I think it's so human and funny. People are buying EVERYTHING!  I love when we can stay home in a storm. I love seeing dogs play in the snow.  Beef stew, and chili. I don't even mind the dark evenings, either, it's cozy.   And somehow, time seems to go by a bit more slowly, and for that, I am always grateful

RHYS BOWEN: The thing I love best about winter is that I CAN AVOID IT!  I'm like the swallows, I fly south at the end of October and remain in Arizona until the end of March, enjoying sitting by the pool, walking through the desert and sitting at outdoor cafes. One of the reasons I left England was that it was cold and damp and dark for so many months of the year. I do not do cold well! I don't mind going to the ski slopes for a quick run down the mountain followed by hot toddy, but the thing I dislike most is the dreary darkness. To wake up to dark, to see the daylight fail just after four is something I find really hard. I think I'm definitely a SAD person. I just want to hibernate when the sun isn't streaming in through my windows. 

INGRID THOFT:  The windy winter rain in Seattle always feels like permission to curl up on the couch and read for hours on end.  I love hot chocolate and cozy sweaters and thick soups.  And as much as I appreciate our summer influx of tourists, I really like getting my city back!  I love being able to walk through the market at any time of day, any day of the week, without having to squeeze through a sea of people.  The city seems to exhale, before it gears up for the return of the cruise ships.

JENN McKINLAY: We're having a bit of a cold snap here in the desert (50's during the day, freezing at night). I don't like it. I grew up in Connecticut and survived the blizzard of '78 where the trees were coated in ice and the entire state shut down for three days. Brrr. While I love winter sports like ice skating and skiing, I don't feel the need to live in the snow and cold for six months out of the year. I can manage the two hour drive to Flagstaff for some fun in the snow and be home in my pool by nightfall. What I do like about the cooler temps, even here in Phoenix, is cooking the heartier meals like shepherd's pie, feeling as if it's okay to sleep in because it's cold out from under the covers, knitting (my hobby) feels more normal than it does when it's 115 outside, and I sleep better in the cold. No idea why, but I do. 

LUCY BURDETTE:  I'm with Rhys, I don't mind missing most of winter. But I did love the day after a big snowstorm when everything is quiet and covered with inches or feet of snow. I just don't like it dragging on and on...Here's a picture of me and Tonka, back in our winter days. He loved the cold and snow, as his fur isn't really designed for Key West heat and humidity!! I don't mind a little early darkness either. It feels weird to get into bed with a book in the summer when it's light out.

JULIA: How about you, dear readers? Can you find anything to love about this challenging season?

Old School Days - at a Chateau in Switzerland; a guest post by Tracee de Hahn

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It's always a pleasure to read a debut mystery featuring a unique protagonist and setting. It's even more of a pleasure to see the debut highly praised and learn there's a second book on the way!

Readers may remember today's guest, Tracee de Hahn, and her look at the reclusive life of Switzerland's elite in her first novel, SWISS VENDETTA. Her inimitable detective, Inspector Agnes Lüthi, is back in A WELL-TIMED MURDER, out this February 6th:

Swiss-American police officer Agnes Lüthi is pulled into the investigation of a dead watchmaker while recovering from injuries she sustained in her last case. Guy Chavanon died a week ago, and his daughter doesn’t believe his death was accidental. Shortly before he died, Chavanon boasted that he’d discovered a new technique that would revolutionize the watchmaking industry, and she believes he may have been killed for it. Reluctantly, Agnes agrees to investigate his death. But the world of Swiss watchmaking is guarded and secretive, and before she realizes it, Agnes may be walking straight into the path of a killer.

Today, Tracee is sharing part of the inspiration for A WELL-TIMED MURDER - the differences and similarities between old school chums in two different cultures.

It’s the fifth, may I still say happy new year? I think so. Happy New Year!

I spent the past week at my parents’ house in western Kentucky where I grew up. Nothing makes for a year-in-review (life in review?) moment like a return ‘home.’ I dove into family life and barely left the house (my six-week-old niece was there, attention grabber!). However, there was plenty of time to think about friends from childhood.

Growing up in a small town means there is a sense of connectivity even among people you don’t know. This was well before ‘degrees of separation’ were counted, but I’d say that there were never more than two. Everyone ‘knew’ everyone or could place them – through band, sports teams, friends of siblings or parents, church, neighbors. Somewhere there was a connection. We were all in a loose circle, and whether side by side or way across the gap, there was an element of continuity.

My husband had a very different experience, one I think about often since my books are set in Switzerland where he spent his childhood. One of the underlying themes of my next book, A WELL-TIMED MURDER, is family. Well, really children and parents and their relationships, which led me to quiz my husband about his experiences at boarding school. Not surprisingly, a fictional boarding school plays a significant role in the new book. 

Tracee's childhood home on the left; her husband's boarding school on the right

 

My husband left his home in Vienna for boarding school in Switzerland around his ninth birthday. Tell ten people this and you will get ten reactions: high quality education, idyllic setting, torn from parents too young. The list goes on. Are these children the rejects – sent by parents who can’t be bothered to rear them? Or are they the recipients of a bounty of privilege? (Between us, my husband has a few former classmates who he is certain were sent as far from home as possible. But I won’t name names.)

Henri de Hahn's school near Gruyere Castle; Tracee's high school near farm land

Compared to my own circle of childhood acquaintances, my husband’s expanded exponentially the moment he arrived at school. Granted, there was a similarity of access to this privileged environment, but beyond that the kids were there for disparate reasons (parents serving in war-torn places, tradition of boarding school education, and yes, those children whose parents may have wiped their heads with glee!). They came from all over the world – Africa, the Middle East, Europe and a trio of brothers from America. This setting – full of incongruity and the clash of tradition and culture amidst the normal trials of adolescence – turned out to be rich fodder for my characters. 

The medieval town of Gruyere. Charmant! Affasanate! Reizend!

 

As we celebrate the start of a new year, I don’t have a resolution precisely, but I do hope to meet up with some of my childhood friends and acquaintances in 2018. No matter our different paths, we still have a special connection. I’m sure of it.

I’m curious – did you connect with lifelong friends over the holidays? My ‘oldest’ friends date from 5^th grade, when my family moved to a new town. I bet a few of you have friends from much earlier than that…..

Tracee has a giveaway for one lucky commenter: your choice of the audiobook or trade paper of SWISS VENDETTA, or, if you're willing to wait a month, the hardcover of A WELL-TIMED MURDER!

You can find out much more about Tracee de Hahn, her books, and her travels at her website. You can friend her on Facebook, follow her on Twitter as @LuthiMysteries, and drool over her pictures of glorious food and sweet dogs on Instagram!

To Hawaii and Back Again

This is truth the poet sings: That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.

        Alfred, Lord Tenneson; Locksley Hall

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: As I sit here in Maine, writing this, we are expecting a bomb cyclone to turn a regular Nor'easter into a day-long blizzard, with up to fourteen inches expected in my town. After the snow passes, the Polar Vortex descends on us with a vengeance: Saturday's high will be 3F/-16C and the nighttime low is predicted at -20F/-29C. So it is bittersweet that I am here to tell you about my awesome Hawaiian vacation.

 Here are the girls and I about to take off on our flight from Boston. We were somewhat less chipper when we took off from O'Hare at 11pm (midnight, according to our body clocks) and positively staggering when we reached LA at 1:30am PDT (omgwhattimeisit EDT.)

Fortunately, we were traveling with the Sailor, and were able to bunk down at the Bob Hope USO, along with roughly 50% of the US armed forces and their families. Seriously, I slept on yoga mat beneath the piano in the reception area. We bounced back on the long flight to Kailua-Kona, and by the time we arrived we were fully able to appreciate the gorgeous heat and humidity - and the amazing drive to Hilo on the Saddle Road, which rises to over a mile above sea level and traverses the high lava desert between Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea.


We stayed on the Puna coast, which- as we were to discover - is the neo-hippie center on the Big Island. You have to go to Burning Man to see more white guy dreadlocks, Indian-print sarongs and nose rings. These free-living souls were a bit underwashed, but kind and accepting. In fact, at one beach a colorful fellow named Benjamin offered me a kiss and a joint. I declined both.

We were staying at a perfect house we had gotten from AirBnB (anyone heading to Hawaii? Email me and I'll hook you up.) It was inside a forest preserve, which in practice meant that every time we drove down the (dirt) road to the place, we felt like we were extras in Jurassic Park. It had a comfortable cabin style second floor and a ground floor that was really the ground - covered in pea gravel and open to the balmy air. I made breakfast and packed lunches every day while the neighbors' chickens wandered through. 



 We took our time and relaxed. We slept late (for different values of late. I would arise at 9:30am, the Youngest would join me around 11, and the Smithie and the Sailor, aka The Creatures of the Night, sometimes didn't make it out of bed until 1pm.) 

I discovered the many delights of traveling with twenty-somethings with real jobs: they each took turns paying for dinner (we intended to eat home-cooking as we did for breakfast and lunch, but somehow every evening we wound up at a restaurant or ordering take-out. They both drove and were both capable of loading the Jeep Wrangler with the necessities for a day out with minimal instruction. (those of you who are parents are impressed, right?)

Youngest was our DJ, as she's the only family member with a Spotify subscription. I honestly think one of the highlights of the trip for her was the chance to wear Lily Pulitzer clothing every single day. 

So what did we do besides sleeping and watching the chickens?



We spent Christmas Eve Day at Volcanoes National Park, where we were able to stand near natural steam vents, see the caldera of Kilauea, the most active volcano in the world, and travel down the Chain of Craters to see the collapsed cones of past volcanoes. They looked ancient, but the entire island is one of the youngest places on the planet, only a million years old.































We went to see The Last Jedi together! I know, go to Hawaii to sit in a cinema? But we all love Star Wars and have been waiting for TLJ, and we wanted to experience it as a family. There were VERY long lines at the only movie theater in Hilo. We missed one night, and came back much earlier the next. Also the girls and I all have massive crushes on Adam Driver. (Mark Hamill is more my age range, but apparently he's been happily married to the same woman for 40 years, so there you go.) 

We had some fabulous meals, including Pacific fish fresh enough to satisfy the most stringent Mainer's taste, grass-fed beef from the Parker Ranch that was so good I may never eat grain-fed beef again. Seriously, we have a lot of grass here in the continental US! Let's use it for better burgers! On Christmas Eve, instead of our traditional Chinese take out, we had...drumroll...Thai take out. And of course we enjoyed many tropical rum drinks. If you can't put the lime in the coconut and drink it all down in Hawaii, where can you?

On Christmas day, the kids were amazed to see Santa had flown their stockings all the way from the mainland and left them stuffed with books and dvds (and pocket-sized hand sanitizers, little tubes of Eucerin, and lip balm. St. Nick believes in prepping for winter weather.)




We spent Christmas Day at a nude-friendly beach. Bet you never thought you'd see me writing that, didja? The girls and I didn't actually know about the clothing-optional aspect until we were there, at which point the Sailor swore he had already informed us. We kept our suits on - mine is a particularly old-New England-lady number with a skirt - and Youngest took her glasses off, so everyone in the distance became a bit blurred. We read our new Christmas books, picnicked on tuna salad sandwiches and leftover Thai food, and swam in the warm Pacific waters. 

You bet we wore sunscreen. The sun can kill you, you know.

We saw the Waipio Valley and the high country beyond it and drove the ridiculously scenic Old Māmalahoa Highway, which climbs and turns past waterfalls, deep chasms and heart-stopping gulches. We visited with old friends who have retired to the island. We shopped for tourist kitsch and lingered through a museum on the geology and history of the island.

My favorite part was on our last day. Our flight wasn't until almost 9pm, so we packed up and picked up in the morning and spent the whole afternoon at the thermal pond in Ahalanui Park. Cool water surged in from the ocean through a winding channel to meet up with hot volcanic spring water. It was the perfect temperature, shallow enough so almost everyone could walk comfortably on the bottom (covered in sand and smooth lava) and the county of Hawaii had improved nature by providing a safe walkway all the way around and rock steps with handrails to get in. 

Here at home, the drains in the downstairs bathroom AND the kitchen have cracked from ice. I'm trickling water into a ten-gallon tub set in the sink, in the hopes we won't lose H2O completely downstairs. When it fills up, I have to empty it off the side of the porch, because the downstairs toilet is frozen. Literally.

Is it any wonder, dear readers, that in my head I'm still floating in the thermal pool, with the sun filtering through palm leaves and a breeze keeping things from getting too hot? I'll rub a little coconut-scented hand lotion on between tossing water into a blizzard, and remember warmer times.