The baker, meanwhile, beams with pride
Congratulates a groom and bride.
    Then pats an antling on the head
    And goes to check her gingerbread.
                                                        from Tiny Baker
                                              written by Hayley Barrett 
                                                 illustrated by Alison Jay
                                                 Barefoot Books, 2020
                                       (accessed on YouTube 3/20/23)

    Several summers ago I noticed an infestation of aphids devouring my yarrow. After a quick Google search, I learned that ladybugs would feast on them. At the time, a mail-order gardening supply store was located nearby. I had been there several times to purchase tomato plants, perennials, and potting soil. When I found out they sold ladybugs in sacks, I was there in a quick minute.
    I could hardly wait to get back to my garden to save my yarrow, now in full bloom. I hopped out of the car holding high hopes for the squiggly contents in the tiny canvas bag, alive with hungry ladybugs. I undid the knotted string and welcomed my new garden helpers.
    To my horror and great disappointment, those beautiful little bugs immediately spread both sets of their wings, turned up their tiny noses, and followed their antennae straight to my neighbor’s garden! 
    My yarrow suffered. I apologized to them, but the damage was done. I don’t remember what grew in their spot the next summer. 
    And now as the calendar turns its hopeful page to spring, I’m again on the lookout for garden destroyers. For the most part, I’m a live and let live kinda gal. I do what I can to encourage pollinators. I (okay, my husband) put out a birdfeeder, a beehouse, even a house for the chickadees. Last summer I planted milkweed and the little, pointy sprouts are pushing through the cold soil, hopeful for Monarchs.
    According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac about 90% of our backyard insects are either helpful or harmless. We only need to worry about the other 10%.
    I started wondering  about the difference between bugs and insects. 
    Since scientists recognize both terms, the difference comes down to those basic biology classifications: kingdom, phylum, class, and order. Both insects and true bugs fall into class Insecta, but true bugs fall into order Hemiptera. So, all insects are bugs, but not all bugs are insects.
    Most of what I call bugs are really insects: ladybugs, grasshoppers, and mosquitoes, to name a few. All insects have six segmented legs and exoskeletons. They have two antennae, and bodies segmented into a head, a thorax, and an abdomen.
    True bugs, on the other hand, belong to the subset of insects called Hemiptera. While also mostly benign, they include stinkbugs, bedbugs, cicadas, and aphids.
    Worldwide, about 75,000 different bugs are classified as Hemiptera. These true bugs have a straw-shaped mouth, or stylet, they use to mostly sap juice from plants or occasionally blood from animals. They also have long, segmented antennae. Their wings are tough and dark where they meet their bodies and are thin and translucent at the ends. 
    You can find the major difference between insects and true bugs by studying their mouths. A bug’s stylet is fixed in place. So even though a mosquito sucks our blood, it uses its proboscis while feeding then retracts it when it’s finished. 
    Even though I (and probably many others) call most little creepy-crawlies bugs, millipedes, centipedes, and spiders also find their way to my garden. Along with scorpions and ticks, they are classified as arachnids because they have eight legs. To distinguish them further, you need to study how their feet and legs are arranged. 
    Arachnids are named for the Greek goddess, Arachne. A common version of the myth introduces Arachne as an extraordinary weaver with the hubris to claim she is more skilled and has more artistry than Athena, herself. Of course, Athena could not leave that boast unchallenged. Athena wove a four-paneled tapestry depicting the arrogance of humans. Arachne’s weaving showed how the gods' cruelty afflicted humans. Even though Arachne’s weaving was judged superior, Athena cursed her. She turned Arachne into a spider and forced her to weave for all eternity.    
    Around 1750, Carolus Linnaeus devised a system to organize life on earth. He first separated plants from animals. That worked pretty well, at least until 1959, when Robert Whittaker added three new categories including algae, mosses, and fungi and many of their relations. When modern scientists considered the molecular structure of living things, five categories became too general. 
    Seems like the more we learn about ourselves and our Earthmates, the blurrier the separation lines become.
    And since we’re getting a little scientific, we need to mention computers. The first computer bug was a real bug. A moth to be specific. On September 9, 1947, Grace Hopper, a former US Navy Rear Admiral and computer scientist, discovered why an error kept occurring on the Mark II machine she and her team were working on. An actual moth with a 2-inch wingspan flew into the workings of the machine and got stuck. Grace extracted the critter, taped it into the log book, and identified it as a computer bug. I guess you could say her term has gone viral. 
    From computers to compost, we find bugs, insects, and arachnids everywhere. Some are prey, a few are predators, but most just like to hang out and smell the roses. Oh, no! Aphids love roses! 
                                                         -—stay curious!
    
I’m reading another book by Kate Quinn, The Rose Code (HarperCollins, 2021). It’s also historical fiction and tells of three young women recruited to work at Bletchley Park as code-breakers. Quinn’s use of language helps her readers feel like we’re in scene with these strong women. Her characters feel so real, I think, because Quinn shows off her thorough research by writing plausible relationships, and situations in a setting that feels like a character in its own right.
      Bletchley Park, the WWII top-secret facility housed in an English country mansion close to the center of England is now a museum. 

    “What are you doing here,” Waffle said sneering.
    “I’m sleuthing,” Croissant said. And you’re interfering. What do you know about smells that are vicious? 
    “Nothing,” said Waffle. “My house smells delicious.
                               from The Case of the Stinky Stench
                                                  written by Josh Funk
                                       illustrated by Brendan Kearney
                                                Union Square Kids, 2017

     The musty smell of an old house always ratchets me back to my grandparents’ house. They didn’t have many toys, but kept a big box of wooden blocks, the kind with letters and numbers on them, in the back of the coat closet. We’d visit on Sunday afternoons and after dinner and conversation around the dining room table, we kids would be excused to our own devises. 
    Sometimes we’d play hide and seek. This was the real deal in a three-story house with two sets of stairs and a toilet in the attic. Sometimes Babba would chase us through her garden, laid out with 2 x 4s dividing the rows and a tall peach tree standing sentry off to one side. 
    I don’t remember individual scents throughout the house. I’m sure the peach tree smelled like a delicious summer day. I love the smell of ripe peaches, but that smell leaves me where I am.
    When we pulled out the blocks, though, the scent was strong. Not unpleasant, but a unique smell like old books mixed with Grandpy’s cherry pipe tobacco and a little musty around the edges. 
    The sense of smell is tightly connected to our emotions. I’ll say why, but first a small diversion, to compare.
    When we hear, sound waves vibrate the tiny bones in our middle ears. They in turn stimulate tiny hairs connected to the auditory nerve where electrical impulses are identified as a particular sound. We identify a guitar or thunder or a cat looking for affection.
    Light enters our eyes and travels to our brain through the optic nerve. Our brain interprets the lightwaves as electrical impulses and translates them for us. We know which baby is ours before she even makes a sound. We know which coat is ours before we need to touch it to make sure.
    But the sense of smell works differently. When the olfactory receptors in our noses are stimulated, they send smell information signals to the rest of our brain through olfactory nerves in our noses. Olfactory nerve fibers travel to the olfactory bulb, an area in the upper part of our nose. 
    And here’s the difference. The olfactory bulb is part of the limbic system, the part of our brain that deals with emotion and memory. 
    So while a photo of Babba in her garden or in her house or even in mine evokes strong memories, a musty old smell sends me right back to her front hall where we played. 
    “Young Girl” by the Union Gap and “Sittin’ On the Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding make me feel nostalgic for that warm, spring day when my boyfriend put the top down and drove me to Lake Milton where his family had a small weekend house. His mom made Spanish rice, something my mom never made. 
    Those memories are like scenes that I watch. 
    But a familiar smell brings all the emotions with it.

    The Museum Ulm in southern Germany is offering “olfactory tourism.”  It is becoming “a thing” as other museums work with perfumers to create scents depicted in their paintings on exhibit. At Mauritshuis in The Hague, Rembrandt’s painting “Unconscious Patient (Allegory of Smell)” the scent of smelling salts that Rembrandt included in his painting was carefully recreated by perfumers from the International Flavors and Fragrances Institute (IFF). They researched the availability of particular spices, flowers, and other aromatics to ensure their created scent is authentic to the 1600s when Rembrandt was working. 
    Last year (2022) the Louvre began olfactory tours that paired scent with its still life collection. Inspired by Jan Brueghel’s paintings of “The Five Senses,” the Museo del Prado opened its own scent exhibit.
    By adding the dimension of an overlooked sensory detail like scent, museum experiences may become more memorable. 
    Hotels have been using “scentscapes” for years. Hired professionals create an exclusive scent that’s used in their shampoos and body washes and sprayed throughout the lobbies, spas, and even rooms. 
    Many years ago when I was selling my house, my realtor suggested I bake chocolate chip cookies before my open house, of course allowing plenty of time to clean up. 
    I don’t remember if that worked. The house was on the market for a pretty long time! And now, while my house sometimes smells like chicken soup or bread, the scent of chocolate chip cookies always conjures up a feeling that change is in the air!
                                   -—stay curious! (and breathe deep)

I’m re-reading an older title by Elizabeth Berg, The Story of Arthur Truluv. I love the characters. I’m laughing and crying my way to the end. I think part of the reason they are so alive to me is that Lucille is a baker and the book evokes the smell of lots baked goods. I’ll miss those characters when I close the covers, but good news! Two other books, A Night of Miracles and The Confession Club, feature the same characters. And surprise! Here comes a prequel, Earth’s the Right Place for Love will be released on March 21, 2023. My copy’s on reserve at the library.

Groundhog grinned with relief. He was a natural. Meteorology was as easy as carrot cake with sprinkles on top. 
from Groundhog Gets it Wrong
                                                written by Jess Townes
                                               illustrated by Nicole Miles
                                 Dial Books for Young Readers, 2023

    My daffodils are budding. When I wake up now, it’s almost light outside. We’ve had mild weather for two days in a row now, but I still haven’t seen a robin. But, guess what? Most American robins don’t even migrate. So where are they? They tend to “flock up” and keep a pretty low profile. They change their eating habits from munching earthworms and insects to dining on berries and fruit when they can find them. And since males are not defending their territory yet, they stay quiet.
    They’re still here, but go unnoticed. So according to the robins, it’s not Spring yet.
    Last month, February 2, to be exact, Punxsutawney Phil ran back into his burrow in fear of his own shadow. He predicted six more weeks of winter. If you count six weeks past February 2, you get to March 16. Every year. So according to the groundhog, it’s not Spring yet, either, even if he hadn’t seen his shadow.
    Even though Earth travels in an elliptical orbit around the sun, it’s the 23.5 degree tilt from vertical and the position of the sun in relation to the equator that causes the seasons, not the physical distance between Earth and the sun.
    At the Vernal Equinox, (from Latin Spring and Equal night) we experience about the same number of daylight hours as darkness. This year, the Vernal Equinox will occur on Monday March 20, at 5:24 PM in America’s Eastern Time Zone. Days will grow longer until Summer Solstice, June 21, 2023, when darkness slowly returns. So according to the calendar, it’s still not Spring. Astronomers and calendar manufacturers have standardized the first day of Spring as March 20, but, really, it fluctuates with the equinox.
    For meteorologists and climatologists Meteorological Spring lasts from March 1 through May 31 every year is. Astronomical seasons (the regular ones we mark on our calendars) are based on the position of Earth in relation to the sun. Meteorological seasons are based on the annual temperature cycle.
    According to the American Meteorological Society, a meteorologist “is someone with specialized education who uses scientific principles to explain, understand, observe, or forecast the earth's atmospheric phenomena and…how the atmosphere affects the earth and life on the planet. They study weather patterns, collect and analyze data, and present short term predictions. 
    Climatologists take the long view. They look for patterns of change. They study data to determine causes for climate change, how plants and animals, including humans, adapt, and what measures we need to implement to ensure (or at least prolong) our sustainability. 
    Phenology combines meteorology with climatology. It is the study of how changing seasons impact living things and their environment. Phenology studies how dandelions and lilacs bloom exactly when bees wake up to gather their nectar and spread their pollen. Cherry trees set their fruit in time for birds to eat and spread their seeds. Acorns ripen just as squirrels are ready to cache them before winter sets in. 
    Farmers and home gardeners need to know when plants and insects develop, hatch, and disperse. It helps them determine when to apply fertilizers and pesticides, and choose proper planting times to avoid frosts, both at the beginning and at the end of the growing season. 
    The United States National Phenology Network (USA-NPN) was established in 2007, “in part to assemble long-term phenology datasets for a broad array of species across the United States.” Scads of information are available on their site. 
    Here’s an example from its Status of Spring page. Based on data collected from all over the US, and considering first leaf bud to the first emergence of crocuses, the USA-NPN has determined that “Spring has indeed arrived several days to weeks earlier than average (based on the period of 1991-2020) in much of the Southeast, lower Midwest, and mid-Atlantic, while much of southern California and Arizona are days to over a week late.” You can see an up-to-date map of both first leaf emergence and first bloom if you click on the link and then click on either map.  
    Here’s an interesting activity you might want to try with kids and curious adults. Use the directions at US Department of Land Management to make your own phenology wheel. Draw a circle divided into quarters. Label each section for a season. Find a tree or flower or bush you can return to year after year. Draw a smaller circle in the center of your large circle and draw your tree or bush or flower in that small circle. Now observe. Over the course of a year, draw and label leaf bud, animal and insect visitors, and weather conditions. If you scroll down past the example, you’ll find lots of data suggestions as well as a blank seasonal wheel and one that is divided by months.
    On the practical side, you can anticipate when your hay fever will start acting up so you can stock up on kleenexes or make sure you have plenty of handkerchiefs ready.
    I’ve had my eye out for our groundhog, but so far I haven’t seen it. Meanwhile, I’ve been watching the birdfeeder. The chickadees are back. Their house is hung. I hope they move in again this year.

I’m almost finished with Invisible Child by Andrea Elliot. The narrative follows eight years in the life of a young girl growing up in extreme poverty in New York City during in Michael Bloomberg’s tenure as mayor and continuing with Bill De Blasio’s. The story is by turns heart wenching, inspiring, and startling. And true. Recommend!
                                  -—be curious! (and keep looking up)

In February
it will be 
my snowman’s
anniversary
with cake for him
and soup for me!
Happy once
happy twice
happy chicken soup
with rice.
               from Chicken Soup with Rice: A Book of Months
                         written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak
                                                  Harper & Row, 1962

    My Februarys include four birthdays, and a wedding anniversary. Celebrations continue from March till the end of April when three more birthdays fall in line. The rest of the family are outliers, but no less important.
    February kicks off celebration season, but I wondered about the month itself. Peculiarities abound, especially in our era of Climate Change. But where did the name come from? Why is it only 28 days long, usually? How did such a short month get three historical birthdays, three holidays, almost a whole week of birdwatching, and a month-long recognition of Black History?
    Groundhog Day, President’s Day, and Valentine’s Day are ripe for celebration. You can spend four days counting birds during the Great Backyard Bird Count and learn Black history for four full weeks. Four historical birthdays, Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, Frederick Douglass, and Susan B. Anthony all line up in February. Tu B’Shevat, the Jewish Festival of Trees, and Lent sometimes fall in February. They follow the lunar calendar not the common solar one on which the US calendar is based. 
    According to the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST), the world’s earliest calendars were made by noting the movement of stars, the moon, and Venus. Most used ten to twelve months divided into around thirty days each. It seems that every ancient culture from Australia to the Middle East to the Mayans and Celts kept track of time in various ways and by various means. 
    In the time of Rome’s dominance in the Hellenistic period (323 BCE-31 CE)
the calendar was named for the reigning ruler. Even as its influence was beginning to wane, the Julian Calendar was named for Julius Caesar who ruled from 46-44 BCE. Originally comprised of 304 days, the calendar was divided into 10 months starting with March. January and February were added later to help synchronize the days with the seasons. More adjustments were made by Augustus Caesar and the Julian Calendar stayed in use until 1582, when it was finally replaced by the Gregorian calendar devised by Pope Gregory XIII. It is still the most commonly used calendar in the world today.  
    In languages and countries all over the world February’s name can be translated into English as mud-month (Solmonath from Old English) and ice-pearl month (Helmikuu from Finnish).
    The Latin word februa means “to cleanse.” February is named for Februalia, a month-long Roman purification celebration when community and personal atonement were practiced. Offers and sacrifices were made to the god of the dead. Since even numbers were seen as unlucky, the shortest month was designated the month of the dead, and given the least number of days. 
    Since February has 28 days, in non-leap years, it is possible that the whole month can pass without a full moon. The last time that happened was 2018, and it won’t happen again until 2037. For the same reason, February can miss its new moon, that tiny sliver that first appears at the beginning of the waxing cycle. February 2014, missed its new moon. That won’t occur again until 2033.
    February was chosen as Black History Month in 1976, to coincide with the birthdays of Frederick Douglass and President Abraham Lincoln. 
    Since 1998 when it was started as a citizen-science project, The Great Backyard Bird Count has grown into a world-wide activity.
    February’s full moon is called the Snow Moon.
    Its birth flowers are the violet, the primrose, and the iris.
    Amethyst is February’s birthstone. It symbolizes piety, humility, spiritual wisdom, and sincerity.
    But how do you *say* it?
    It’s a little tricky, but the standard pronunciation is Fe BRU ary. Lots of people skip the first R because of a process called dissimilation. Sometimes people drop the first of two similar sounds in a word to avoid repeating that sound. Some people say LI Berry (library) for the same reason.
    And, while I can’t verify where I saw the notice, (about 10 minutes ago) Feb U ary has gained traction and is now an accepted pronunciation. 
    Even as February 2023 is coming to a close, I still have lots of celebrations to celebrate, lots of birds to count, lots of history to learn, and sunny spring weather to look forward to.

                                        -—be curious! (and celebrate)

While it has nothing to do with February, I’m listening to David Sedaris reading his book I Talk Pretty One Day (Hachette Audio, 2000). He’s one of the funniest people alive. While the book will make you laugh out loud (really, all of them will) hearing him read his own words is a treat!

 If all of you want to be good leaders or honest [leaders], treat each other with equal respect, and just tell the truth.
    
                                    from Ellie May on Presidents’ Day
                                               written by Hillary Homzie
                                          illustrated by Jeffrey Ebbler
                                                      Charlesbridge, 2018

    Mom always said it’s better to be a leader than a follower. Dad, I think, tended to agree.
    Me, although I always wanted to be famous (and I still do!) I never really wanted to be recognized in a rock-star kind of way. Name recognition was what I have always been after.
    “Oh!” I heard in my mind’s ear. “I’ve her heard of her.”
    Real leaders are influencers, not demand-ers. They care about the people who look to them. They give thoughtful advice. They shoulder responsibility. They tell the truth, even when it’s hard. They stand up to criticism when it’s deserved and rally against it when it’s not. Real leaders know the difference.
    They set priorities that meet the needs of their people. All their people. They give a leg up to those who need it. They are kind. They are courteous. They’re strong. 
    Real leaders understand justice and know it is different from fairness. And real leaders strive to make justice equally accessible to everyone. A real leader makes sure to follow the law, too. And a real leader shows respect for lawmakers. A real leader listens to all sides of an argument and knows how to compromise.
    Yesterday was Presidents’ Day. The day is a tribute to George Washington. His birthday, February 22, has been celebrated as a national holiday since President Chester A. Arthur declared it so in 1885. In 1968, the Uniform Holidays Bill was passed to provide more three-day weekends. Abraham Lincoln’s birthday is February 12, so some states and private entities have included him in the celebration. Some all-inclusive types have over generalized to include every President, even those history has deemed not quite up to par. But tradition (and United States law) says the day belongs to George, alone.
    He stayed with his men during a treacherously cold winter at Valley Forge and paid them from his own money. The Colonial Army didn’t have enough funds.
    He and his wife, Martha, owned enslaved people since before their marriage. His concern about slavery grew, especially during and after the Revolutionary War. He saw a stark contradiction in the freedom our young soldiers were fighting for and the institution slavery was becoming.    
    He also knew addressing abolition would rip apart the fragile fabric of the new country he fought so hard to weave. So he encouraged the new Congress to use the legal system to work toward freedom for all people. At his death, George Washington freed the people belonging to him. He was the only president to do so.  
    He refused to be king.
    He stepped down after two four-year terms, refusing a third.
    He helped form alliances with former enemies. 
    He told the truth, even when it was hard. (He never said he chopped down that tree, though!)
    George Washington was a real leader for all those reasons and more. In his own lifetime, he was rock-star famous. 
    His people loved him and trusted him. They knew he had their best interests in his choice-providing, decision-making, ultimatum-giving actions.
    He was a good man. And a good leader. Need I say more?

    Last Sunday, I finished reading Hurricane Lizards and Plastic Squid: The Fraught and Fascinating Biology of Climate Change by Thor Hanson (Basic Books, 2021). It is an extremely readable and scientific (hard to do, I know) account of how animals and plants are adapting to climate change. Hanson describes changes as they are happening in real time. His research is extensive and the experts he interviewed are well-respected in their fields. Highly recommend!
                                               -—stay curious! (and kind)

“Dr. Long,” Henry said.
“My giggle is gone.
I can’t seem to laugh
and I don’t know what’s wrong.
                          from Henry Hyena, Why Won’t You Laugh?
                                                written by Doug Jantzen
                                               illustrated by Jean Claude
                                        Simon & Schuster/Aladdin, 2015
                                          accessed on YouTube 2/13/23

    Mom would be putting the finishing touches on dinner when Dad got home from work. We kids would be belly-laughing at the Three Stooges on TV in the living room as Dad hung up his hat, loosened his tie, and joined us. Mom muttered about insensitivity, lack of empathy, and how hurting someone isn’t funny as she called us all in to eat dinner. 
    Mom had a great sense of humor. She just didn’t get the stooges, or any other slapstick, either. Some people are like that.
    Usually, if we look for it, we can find the humor in most situations. Time and distance sometimes need to work their magic, but even the blackest cloud can sport a silver lining, if we look hard enough in the right places.
    Humor comes in many guises, not only slapstick. And a side-splitting belly laugh, no matter where it comes from, really is good medicine. 
    The Idioms website attributes the phrase all the way back to Proverbs 17:22 which states “A merry heart does good like a medicine: but a broken spirit dries the bones.” (I updated the translation a little.)
    In modern times, Norman Cousins brought the phrase into public awareness and Patch Adams, a real doctor who believed that the core principles of love and laughter should be the basis of a physician’s bedside manner, brought the phrase to life. Robin Williams’s portrayal of the doc in the 1998 film, Patch Adams is worth a look.
    But is it true? Can laughter really heal us? According to lots of research, the short answer is “yes!” Now I will not discount modern medical breakthroughs, including aspirin, plaster casts, and chemotherapy when necessary, but a good dose of laughter, the more raucous the better, helps, too.
    Laughter is an antidote for stress. A hearty laugh increases our intake of oxygen which increases circulation which helps control the amount of cortisol flowing through our bodies. Cortisol is an important hormone that manages blood sugar levels, reduces inflammation, manages metabolism, and triggers the fight or flight response. But too much cortisol and we feel stress. 
    A rollicking laugh increases then decreases our stress response. The wonderful result is that relaxed feeling we all seek.
    True laughter increases our pain tolerance by releasing endorphins, our bodies’ own natural painkillers.
    Long term, laughter can improve our immune system. An article from The Mayo Clinic says negative thoughts cause chemical reactions that bring more stress into our systems. Our immunity decreases. But positive thoughts release neuropeptides that help fight stress and potentially fight off more-serious illnesses. 
    In our 2023 world full of real suffering, anxiety, and existential threats, (you know what they all are) laughter can help lighten stress, decrease depression, and bring a little more joy into our lives.
    And here’s some more good news. Laughter can be learned. We can all improve (or discover) our own sense of humor. That same Mayo Clinic article tell us how.
    Add more humor to your life. 
    Read funny greeting cards at the corner drug store, grocery store, or look on-line. Hang up funny comics from the newspaper on the bathroom mirror or refrigerator. (I know I’m dating myself here, but I still support our local paper). Watch a funny movie. Young Frankenstein, Meet the Parents, Patch Adams anyone? 
    Find the joke section in the local library’s children’s section (793.7 if your library uses the Dewey Decimal System) and look for the corniest ones there.
    I just found out about laughter yoga. It’s a fake it till you make it situation. At first your laughter is forced. As you continue, it becomes more spontaneous. And it has the added benefit of laughing in a group.
    Humor takes many forms. Look for what tickles your funny bone. Irony, witty puns, self-deprecating humor (try David Sedaris’s “The Christmas Elf”), dark humor (anything Roald Dahl), or a good parody.        
    To me, there’s nothing too much funnier than a gooey, pie-in-the-face slapstick routine. Those three stooges, Larry, Curly, and Moe (and later, Shemp and Joe) were timing masters and guffaw-inducing geniuses. That is, if stapstick is your thing, too.
    
I finished Black Faces, White Spaces by Carolyn Finney (University of North Carolina Press, 2014). She uses a variety of sources including magazines, film, interviews, and popular culture to examine why Black people are underrepresented in America’s National Parks, local parks, and the outdoors in general. It’s an interesting and important premise, but a little fact-heavy and a little narrative-shy.

                                      -—stay curious! (and seek hilarity)

    If you don’t turn any pages, we will never get to the end of this book. And that is good because there is a Monster at the end of this book. So please don’t turn the page.
    YOU TURNED THE PAGE! Maybe you do not understand. You see, turning pages will bring us to the end of this book, and there is a Monster at the end of this book.
                      from The Monster at the End of This Book
                                                 written by Jon Stone
                                         illustrated by Michael Smollin
                                                     Golden Books, 1971
    We can all identify with Grover. We know what it feels like to be afraid and unable to stop a scary event from happening. As we get closer and closer to the end of his book, Grover pleads with his readers to no avail. The last page is finally turned, and what was so scary turns out to not scary at all. 
    But that’s not always real life. 
    Sometimes things *are* very scary. Sometimes we can’t stop them from happening, and sometimes, the ending is not what we expected, but not in a good way. Other peoples’ stories help us cope with the questions, troubles, and perceived problems in our own lives.
    Stories can be made up or true (or True). They can have drama, mystery, violence, compassion. They can be comfortable or disturbing. Stories can be  universal or particular to a person or group. They can teach, show us different points of view, describe familiar places and places we’ll probably never experience.
    Humans are hard-wired to emotion-based stories. Whether on a screen, in a book, or on air, we respond to a story by identifying with the characters, the story’s people. The closer we are to stepping into their shoes, the more we learn of their motivations. That helps us understand them, and ourselves, too. Because we’re all human, we can learn something from everyone’s story.
    That was one of Dave Isay’s ideas when he built the first StoryCorps booth in Grand Central Terminal in New York City and invited people to come in and talk to each other. And people did.
    He wanted to build an archive of regular people talking about the extraordinariness that makes their lives unique. He believes peoples’ stories are valuable and storytellers need to be honored for the brave act they are doing by sharing their stories.    
    Dave knew early on that it’s not always easy to ask questions of the ones who mean the most to us, so a trained facilitator is present with the people in the booth. The facilitator welcomes the participants, guides them through their conversation process, handles all the technology, and ensures that the experience is positive for everyone. 
    Over 325,000 interviews are housed and searchable on the American Folklife Center’s website and in their reading room in the Library of Congress in Washington, DC. The collection is continually growing. Here’s a link to get you started listening to heartwarming, sincere, and relatable real people telling their real stories. Each is under 10 minutes long, but longer interviews are also archived.
    StoryCorps has developed an online app that you can use to tell your story, but you can still request an in-person conversation. An enormous amount of information is on their website: StoryCorps.org and under each of the tabs. 
    The mission of StoryCorps is “to preserve and share humanity’s stories in order to build connections between people and create a more just and compassionate world.” They want to remind us of our shared humanity. They want to help strengthen and build the connections between people. Listening is a core (Corps) value. By “weaving our own stories into the fabric of our culture” we’ll come to understand that everyone’s story matters. 
    Lofty goals, yes. But achievable? Listen for yourself! NPR broadcasts one 3-minute interview every Friday morning on my local station. You can listen to past recordings here. 
    If that gets you hooked on listening, try one (or more) of these:
This American Life 
The Moth 
How I Built This 

    I’m reading an historical fiction, Mother Daughter Traitor Spy by Susan Elia MacNeal. (Penguin/Random House, 2022). At only about 100 pages in, I’m already hooked. The mother/daughter relationship, so far at least, feels realistic. The plot is gripping. The main characters become undercover Nazi-hunters living in California in the late 1930s and early 1940s. 
    I’ll soon see how it all shakes out, but I’m optimistic that it’ll be a good one. I’ll let you know next week! 
                             -—be curious! (and listen to each other)

When Charlotte’s web said SOME PIG, Wilbur had tried hard to look like some pig. When Charlotte’s web said TERRIFIC, Wilbur had tried to look terrific. And now that the web said RADIANT, he did everything possible to make himself glow.
                                               from Charlotte’s Web
                                                written by E. B. White
                                          illustrated by Garth Williams
                                                  Harper & Row, 1952

    I spent my childhood and adolescence as a five on a ten-scale. I did not stand out. I was not outstanding. I liked it like that, a little bit invisible. I was a steady B student, except for math, but that’s a different story. I didn’t enter contests, so I didn’t win any prizes, and that was okay. It was intentional.
    Being “the best” was not on my list of goals. I didn’t have a list, anyway. I learned about bell-curves, the 80-20 rule, and law of averages. I predictably fell in the middle of it all. 
    Please don’t feel sad. I worked at being unnoticed.
    The irony of all of this is I have always wanted to be famous. Not Famous, just a little bit, like in my own circle of friends. But I wouldn’t have minded the capital F Famous, if it should come my way. And there’s the rub. I lived in the tension of wanting something that I thought was unattainable.
    We’re in the midst of Award Season. Grammies, Oscars, Super Bowl Champions, and the Newbery, Caldecott, and the rest of the American Library Association’s picks for the best children’s literature of 2022, to be awarded Oh! right now. It’s 9:00 Monday morning in Northeast Ohio. I’m about to tune in.
    And now, here's a complete list of the winners posted by School Library Journal. I have to admit that I’ve only read one of the winning titles, Wildoak by C. C. Harrington and one that I expected to win didn’t. Wildoak took the middle grade Schneider Family Book Award prize for an outstanding work that deals with a disability. Maggie’s stutter makes school really hard for her. She’s sent to live with her grandfather where she spends time in the woods of Wildoak. She discovers a snow leopard in trouble, the woods at the brink of extinction because of “progress,” and her voice by speaking up for them both, dispite her stutter. The Ogress and the Orphans by Kelly Barnhill was a finalist for the 2022 National Book Awards for Young People's Literature, but didn’t take home an ALA award. I really loved the book until the ending. It felt a little forced.
    While we wait to find out how the rest of “the best,” Grammies, Oscars, and Super Bowl LVII play out, I wonder, what makes someone the best, a champion? 
    Most lists that identify traits of champions or what qualities you need to be a champion are sports related. No surprise there, but really?
    The following traits are common to many lists and we can use them to identify those same qualities in ourselves and those we care about. 
1    Attitude is everything. “If you think you can or you think you can’t,
           you’re right” is a quote from Henry Ford who stated it in a
           1947 speech.
2    Confidence brings to mind the phrase, “Fake it till you make it.”
3    Courage, not be confused with bravery, is acknowledging fear    
           and doing the right thing (whatever it is) anyway, like the “good
           trouble” John Lewis(1940-2020) encouraged us to make.
4    Discipline to stick with a schedule, to check off items on a do-
            list, to say “yes” and mean it or to say “no” for good reasons
            are marks of a champion, too. 
5    Concentration is difficult in our multitudes-of-distractions
            society. Champions must wear blinders to stay focused.
6     Intelligence is different than wisdom. Gathering, storing, and
            applying facts are some facets of intelligence. Wisdom
            implies the ability to act morally, ethically, and intuitively. A
            champion needs both of these. 
7    Relentlessness is summed up best by the aphorism: If at first
            you don’t succeed, try, try, again.
8    Integrity, honesty, and truthfulness are all sides of the same coin.
            (Wait! What? a 3-sided coin?)  
9    Compassion and empathy embody the golden rule based the
            Mosaic law: “Whatever is hurtful to you, do not do to any
            other person.” (I include animals and plants, too.)
10    Champions are gracious. They win, but they don’t gloat about it.
11     Champions dream BIG.
    That’s it. We all have all of these qualities in different measure. The trick is to hold them all at once and use them to make a better society. The best champions are champions for a cause. They’re ambitious. 
    For me, the opposite of ambition is contentment. I’m mostly happy with my lot in life. I enjoy spending time with my cat and my grandchildren and my husband, not necessarily in that order! I dream, but at 70 (I’m still trying to understand the reality of that big number) I’m more realistic than I was when I was young, more willing to live each day as it comes. 
    So while I’m not driven by the fire of ambition, I appreciate the comfort of contentment. I’m still not outstanding, really. I still don’t really want to stand out. But I do try to be the best Me I can be. 
    For me, kindness says it all. 
                               -—be curious! (and true to yourself)
This morning I will finish reading Everything Sad is Untrue by Daniel Nayeri. It’s a YA memoir noting the experiences and memories of a young refugee from Iran to Oklahoma. The author won many awards including the 2021 Michael L. Prinz award for Young Adult Literature. Recommended for YA readers and us “grownies,” too.  

Daddy sings blues.
Mama sings sweet.
While that snoozy, woozy baby
Sleeps deep, deep, deep. 
Oh, yeah!
                                                     from Jazz Baby
                                            written by Lisa Wheeler
                                  illustrated by R. Gregory Christie
                                                Clarion Books, 2007
    
    I used to think I didn’t like jazz. Then I stopped listening so hard and surprise! it became a kind of experience. Turns out that instinctively, I did the exact, right thing. Jazz is free-form, improvisational. By paying such close attention, I was trying to confine it to a form.
    My grandmother, Mom’s mom, had an ear for music. She told me once that she could sing along to any song, even one she hadn’t heard before because she could anticipate where the next note will fall or what kind of chord moves a melody along and how the rhythm keeps it all together. 
    But, as I found out, we’ll feel frustrated if we try to use those active-listening skills when we’re surrounded by jazz. We aren’t able to anticipate where the artist is moving the music. Actually, when scientists at Johns Hopkins used fMRI technology to study creativity and spontaneity, they found that jazz musicians, when they improvise, turn off the areas in their brains linked to self-censoring and inhibition, and turn on those that let self-expression flow. 
    So they may be just as surprised by the music they create as the rest of us are when we listen. 
    But how about the rest of us? A term unique to music therapy is the iso effect. Coined in the 1950s and simply put, a client listens to music that matches their mood. They are gradually introduced to music that helps them shift to a different mood.
    Students at Tufts University developed a chart that identifies different characteristics of musical pieces. You can find it here. It is a rubric that defines music on two axes, from happy to sad on the horizontal (stress) axis and calm to energetic on the vertical (energy) axis. Playlists can be developed that move up or down each scale.
    Many components determine a song’s place on this scale called Thayer’s Mood Model. Tempo, volume, pitch, timbre (qualities of sound that let us differentiate the same pitch when played on a flute or say a piano), harmonies (whether simple or complex) and rhythmic qualities (regular, syncopated, improvised among others). These components working together influence our moods.
    While jazz is comprised of many different forms including ragtime, blues, swing, and the newer electric, experimental pieces, when I think of jazz, I think of Ella Fitzgerald’s scat, or Thelonius Monk’s piano, or even Kenny Gee’s sax. 
    Jazz’s complexity is based on the way an artist builds chords then strings notes based on those chords into a melody line that floats above. That’s the innovative factor. That’s the part, when a musician is improvising, that transports us (and them) into a realm where we are receptive, “tuned in.” 
    When I was young, I learned to be an active listener. I’d anticipate where the melody was going and how it would get there. I looked for patterns in the rhythms. I studied Music Theory.  
    But none of that prepared me for jazz. Jazz is improvisational. Jazz builds its own rhythms. Jazz sings its own melodies. In Mysterious Thelonius, a picture book by Chris Raschka, he said of Monk: “He played not one wrong note, not one. His piano had none, not one.” 
    Thelonius Monk is the second most-recorded jazz composer after Duke Ellington. He influenced Dizzy Gillespie, Charlie Parker, and Miles Davis. 
    Depending on who you ask (or which Google hit you click on) you’ll discover that jazz isn’t just one thing. It’s music, of course, but since its invention in New Orleans at the beginning of the twentieth century, Jazz has evolved, like everything alive is bound to do. 
    Jazz, America’s gift to the world.
                 -—be curious! (and take time to relax…with music)

My Book of the Week:
Clint Smith’s How the Word is Passed (Little, Brown and Company; 2021) is a memoir, a travelogue, and a well-researched history documenting one journalist’s impressions as he travels to several historic sites. Looking through his Black lens, Mr. Smith uses his expertise to expose the horrors of slavery and relates his own feelings as well as those of his fellow visitors. Museum curators and his own grandfather’s recollections round out this powerful narrative. 
Highly recommended.     

    “Well, the tulips and daffodils should blossom while I’m away,” said Poppa. “And the vines should begin to climb the wall.” He kissed her on each cheek. “Don’t fret, Theodora. When you see the garden, you’ll know just what to do.”
                                         from The Imaginary Garden
                                          written by Andrew Larsen
                                       illustrated by Irene Luxbacher
                                                 Kids Can Press, 2009

    I talk to my plants. I also talk to my cat, but she sometimes answers me. My plants do too, but it takes a little work on my part to know what they are telling me. Most of the time, I’m pretty sure it’s about being thirsty or drowning. 
    I’ve long heard that talking to your houseplants is good for them. Since we are in a symbiotic relationship regarding air-quality, they benefit from my exhale as much as I do from my inhale (their oxygen-laden transpiration). And close-up, I notice a brown leaf that was kinda yellow the day before or the little creepy-crawly that doesn’t belong. I notice the dryness or saturated soil condition or a new leaf-bud or (if I’m really lucky) a flower bud.
    Turns out, there’s a whole science of plant psychology! Who even knew? Typically, a plant psychologist is called in when a plant (or crop) is ailing. They will examine environmental factors such as soil composition and condition and whether or not an insect invasion is present. They will check humidity levels, the heat source, and amount of available light. Once the physical factors are addressed, behavioral actions can be discussed. These tend to be nebulous.             
    Actually, most of the articles I read on plant psychology dealt with the psychological benefits plants provide to their care-takers, us. We gain a sense of purpose, relief from daily stressors, and a stronger connection to our physical world.
    Scientists who study neuroscience and botany are concerned with the detection and analysis of electrical signals in plants. Many have noted even though plants don’t have “brains” like people or even most animals, (Did you know that jellyfish, sea-stars, clams, and some other underwater animals don’t even have a brain?) plants send electrical signals from leaves to roots and back again by using specialized cells called bundle-sheath cells. The electrical impulses are sent along these cells just like the nervous system of an animal. 
    All biological cells are electrical and even though plants don't have nerves, a plant’s cells are capable of generating electrical impulses called action potentials. It is this process that lets a Venus Flytrap catch its prey. Sensitive plants (Mimosa pudica) also respond to touch by quickly closing their leaves and drooping. They close up when shaken and when exposed to a breeze. Sensitive plants are subject experiments to test their reactions since they are fairly easy to note. 
    Monica Gagliano led one of the most famous studies in “plant neurobiology” in 2014. She wanted to discover if plants have memory. Here’s the description from the Discover Magazine blog (Aug 28, 2019).  Gagliano’s team found that if you drop a potted Mimosa repeatedly, it will eventually stop folding its leaves. But if you switch to a different disturbance — a vigorous shake — the plant will fold its leaves again. But drop the same plant again a month later, and still nothing happens. No folding. The team concluded that the plant is smart enough to not only know the difference between a drop and a shake, but it’s also capable of learning that being dropped isn’t a threat worthy of folding up. They also took their claim a step further. The team claimed all of this is evidence that the plant can remember well into the future.
    In 2016, Gagliano and her team experimented on pea plants trying to prove a Pavlovian response by timing a gust of wind from a fan with a plant’s movement toward a light source. She and her team claimed the plants made the connection between the gust and the light. They could learn and remember just like animals.
    But when other scientists tried to replicate the experiments, they were unsuccessful.
    Gagliano was undaunted. She’s now exploring the philosophy and moral implications of the sentience of plants. Can they anticipate future actions by remembering past actions? Do they have emotions? Can plants feel pain and pleasure?
    Plants and animals all use electricity to transmit information. But plants don’t have neurons, so neurobiology, while the name sounds pretty intriguing, is really a misnomer. According to Gagliano, that doesn’t mean plants are not intelligent, or can’t learn or remember, or apply what they learn to future events, it’s just that plants and animals are different. They learn differently, they interact differently.
    She calls her new field Plant Cognitive Ecology. She’s not saying that plants have consciousness, only if they do, what does it look like and what does that mean?
    Good questions for me to ponder as I keep to my weekly watering schedule that always comes with a healthy dose of encouraging conversation.

Here’s a fascinating read: Peter Wohlleben. The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate – Discoveries from a Secret World. Greystone Books, 2016.
                   -—be curious! (and err on the side of kindness 
                                  to plants and people-italics added)
                                        Robert Donohough, Director
             Public Library of Youngstown and Mahoning County
                                                            1979 - 1989