Air snow

For lack of a better term, I love air snow. These are fine little flakes that literally crystallize out the air on very cold days that are just beginning to have an increase in humidity. There are no clouds in the sky, but it appears to be snowing due to this crystallization. Sometimes it seems merely to be blowing off the trees, but closer observation reveals it is air snow.

We had a white Christmas at my parents' house. Such glory! It was only about 5 degrees, so the snow was fluffy, still, and unblemished. My dad and I walked for a while in the silence, feeling the slight constriction of our throats upon inhalation, and watching the effervescent clouds of exhalation. Snow and air, air and snow.

Kids and language

I spent a lovely few days with my niece and nephew (ages 3 and 7) over Christmas, and had the joy of participating vicariously in their evolving view of the world. My niece is a miracle of verbal skill. I know everyone says that, but this kid used complex language many months before expected, and now converses far more articulately than most 3-year-olds. This provides a unique opportunity to see into what's going on in her head, something that can be frustrating in less articulate kids.

This kid loves purple. Anything purple. Lavendar, mulberry, mauve, eggplant. Clothes, food, toys, soap. So of course everyone buys it for her. The funny part was that my dad got a purple shirt too, and she spotted it in the open box from across the room. Instantly brightening, she trotted over and said enthusiastically, "Is that for me??" Hah! It was purple, so of course it's for her!

My nephew is quieter and less articulate, but quite smart. He got a game called Clue, Jr., which is a simpler version of Clue. The goal is to figure out who ate the cake, at what time, and with what accompanying drink. He is learning to read, and is used to just saying the sounds. This means that he pronounced Clue, Jr. as "Kludger"!! Perfecto. :-) I plan to call it that from now on.

Qualitative recipes

I love qualitative recipes. We had a company potluck and one guy brought these amazing Indian sweets for dessert. I asked him for the recipe and he said he'd ask his wife. Then there was a long delay during which he promised that she was "working on" getting the recipe to me.

She didn't have a recipe! She did eventually write one out, sort of in Western style, but it wouldn't have made the cut at Sunset magazine. It's great. It includes instructions like "keep on stirring until one thread forms." This is code for the "soft ball stage," which modern recipes just call "238 degrees on a candy thermometer." I don't think they use candy thermometers in India. Her recipe also has such vaguenesses as "heat up a pan and form sugar syrup" and "now you can feel the mysore pakku thickening-- stir until it resists a medium amount."

Brilliant! It will clearly take me several tries to get this recipe right. But mysore pakku is worth it. It's a little like my recipe for Afghan "fudge" that is sugar syrup with cardomom, pistacios, and walnuts.

This is cooking.

Holiday jumble

Last night we decorated a small (tabletop) Christmas tree with ornaments including angels and doves of peace, and placed a menorrah beside it. Since Hanukah is alread over, we lit all the candles at once-- we do holidays in Internet time now, I guess. Such a lovely sight, the pinpoint colored Christmas lights beside the stately array of candles. Santa, Jesus, Judah Maccabee... add your own if you want. As the Buddha and others said, there are many paths to freedom.

The geometry of winter

Many of the trees have finally lost their leaves. They stand proud and naked, stripped to the bone. It's beautiful. I love shape even more than color, and trees without leaves express some of the finest geometry of nature. Bare branches against a clouded sky.

Trees don't get cold. Nor do they feel that winter brings loss. They shed their foliage without a tear, serene with the change of seasons. Birth implies death, after all. And besides, spring will come again. What confidence.

Squirrel migration

Today I saw a fascinating squirrel. Its fur was a mixture of reddish underfur with longer black fur growing over it. Sort of like dogs that have shorter and longer hairs of different colors.

This is significant because in California, when I was growing up a few decades ago, there were no red squirrels (only black and gray). At college in the East, I saw grey and red squirrels, but not black. Are the red ones (or more precisely, their genes) finally getting here? And could I see black (-ish) squirrels on the East coast now?

It would be fun to see one of those maps showing migrations of animals, with a timetable for different types of squirrels spreading across the US.

Bodily emotions

There is a difference between an emotion in the mind and in the body, and getting the two confused can lead to trouble.

OK, what the heck does that mean?

I'm talking about fear in particular. You know what fear feels like in your body-- pounding heart, flipping stomach, maybe sweating, maybe chills, maybe a variety of other things (I get distortions in my hearing and vision, for instance). But all of these effects come from the rush of chemicals triggered by an instantaneous burst of fear in the mind. Then they take a little while to clear out of your system, even if you're no longer scared.

That's why you feel a little shaky for a few minutes after nearly being squashed by a semi while out on your bike.

But suppose you don't realize that the trigger for fear is long gone, and you mistakenly think that all the physical signs, which simply haven't had time to decay yet, are evidence that you are still being frightened. You may act inappropriately.

[The same can be said for anger, by the way, if that's a more powerful emotion for you.]

I was reminded of this in a small way recently when I wanted to ask a question after a seminar talk. The speaker was Japanese and apologized for his poor English at the beginning of his presentation. (This is typical Japanese modesty, although it is true that he struggled a bit with the language). Anyway, at the end, I wanted to ask a question, but it also occurred to me to speak a sentence to him in Japanese. I'm a little shy about speaking Japanese in public, and got an instant fear reaction. But instead of continuing to feel it and give it credence, I mentally moved past it to a point when the stimulus was no longer there. That way, I was able to separate the physical and mental components of the fear, and just let the physical ones fade on their own without confusing them with further fear.

I said the sentence just fine. I told him his English was far better than my Japanese. And he smiled and thanked me.

Seasonal reversal

Here in California, the hills are yellow or brown for most of the year. Only for a couple brief months in the spring do they sport green grass, and even then, it is not the bright Irish green of the East.

(Indeed, I find that shade of green sort of lurid. It just looks unnatural and wrong for grass to be that green.)

But we have had several days of rain now, and suddenly the hills are fresh and verdant! You've heard of Christmas in July... this is Easter in December. It looks as out of place as Santa Claus on the beach.

Lamb tails

I was stunned to learn recently that ... lambs have tails. Really. The reason sheep have such stubby little tails is that lambs get their tails trimmed. Like branding the oxen or vaccinating the pigs, lambs go through a ritual at some age where their tails are bobbed. Apparently it's for cleanliness, but I don't know the details.

It makes perfect sense, but I honestly didn't know that.