State of the Schafer: Loss and Kindness

Here I am again with another "yes, I'm still alive" missive. Ironic, really, because someone very dear to me and my family is not. 

Last week we unexpectedly lost my wonderful mother-in-law, Mathilde Schafer. 

Unexpected isn't quite the right word, really; she had been growing increasingly frail, and was struggling with the recovery from a bad fall earlier in the year, so it wasn't entirely a bolt out of the blue. But she'd been in and out of hospital in Sydney with various issues ever since surviving cancer a few years ago, so when we heard she'd had to go back in due to some difficulty breathing, my husband and I assumed it'd be like the other times: the doctors would manage the issue, and she'd be released. 

We knew in a general sense that our time with her was growing short, but we really hoped we'd have at least one more Christmas together. When my husband last talked to her on the phone, she was telling him all about how she hated the hospital food and couldn't wait to get home.

That was not to be. Overnight, she took a sudden turn for the worse, and died early in the morning. There was enough warning for my father-in-law and sister-in-law to be at her bedside to hold her hands as she passed, but not enough for my husband to join them in saying farewell. (This is the hard part of living in a different country from family. New Zealand may be "close" to Australia, but not that close.) 

It's never easy to lose someone you love, and we loved her deeply. I hear so many stories from other women of difficult relationships with their mother-in-laws, but that was never my experience. Mathilde was unfailingly warm, generous, supportive, and kind to me, right from the first, even when her son's relationship with me meant he would spend almost two decades living on the other side of the world from her.  

Celebrating with me when I wed Robert

She was perhaps helped in that because she, too, had left her homeland and built a new life halfway across the world for the sake of love. As a young nurse in Austria, she had already been adventurous enough to leave the tiny Tirolean village in the Alps where she grew up and move to Vienna. That wasn't enough adventure, however. When she saw an advertisement saying that Australia was looking for trained nurses (and highlighting how warm and sunny it was), she decided to go work there for a time. The journey was long - she traveled by ship, not air - and she had to navigate plenty of unexpected hurdles, but her cheerful disposition and eager curiosity served her well. 

While nursing in Australia, she met Manfred, a young police officer who had immigrated to Australia from Germany. They fell in love, he asked her to stay, but she wasn't sure she could leave the beloved Alps and snow of her Austrian homeland behind forever. The way she told it, she traveled all the way back to spend Christmas in Austria, still considering...and that year happened to bring a rainy, muddy, dreary winter instead of the beautiful snow of her memories. Sunny, bright Australia suddenly took on a golden new luster. She decided to return to Manfred, married him, and it was many long years before she spent time in Austria again. 

Manfred and Mathilde in their Sydney home, circa 2007. All told, they were married for 58 years (and together for 2 years before that). 

Despite leaving the Alps, she never lost her love for mountains. Until recently, she'd walk the trail up to Australia's highest point, Mt Kosciusko, every year on her birthday. She and Manfred renovated their house with an upper story designed to look more like the Austrian farmhouse she grew up in, and she indulged in her love for nature with a lush garden that was her pride and joy, full of flowers and citrus fruits.

The renovated Sydney house, with Austrian-style upper balcony, and plenty of Christmas lights - this was taken at one of their yearly Christmas parties, where Mathilde would invite absolutely everyone she knew for a potluck with plenty of music and laughter. (In Austrian tradition, music to be provided by guests bringing their own instruments, from violins to bagpipes.) 

The garden, full of lorikeets (Mathilde loved feeding the birds)

What always stood out the most to me about her, though, is not her intrepid spirit, love of adventure, her eagerness to chat with strangers, or even her ability to make a lifelong friend after a five minute conversation. It was her abundance of kindness and generosity. In hard times, as the famous quote from Mr. Rogers goes, we should look for the helpers...and Mathilde was absolutely a helper. Anything she could do for someone, she would, without the least hesitation. 

As just one small example...not long after our kiddo was first born, he was screaming 24/7 from nonstop colic, and my husband and I were both frazzled zombies feeling like we were drowning with no life preservers in sight. When Mathilde heard what a hard time we were having, she dropped everything and jumped straight onto a long-haul flight, heck with the cost, and came all the way to Colorado to stay with us for a few weeks. She watched our son so we could finally catch up on sleep, made us delicious and healthy dinners every night, cleaned our house, fixed up our garden...I tell you, I cried when she had to leave. 

Taking excellent care of her grandson

Every visit we made to Australia, she was right there doing everything she could to help us. (Even down to the smallest things, like making sure the room we stayed in had a basket of Arnott's shortbread cream bicuits because she knew those were my favorites. Such a simple thing...but it always made me feel so cherished and welcomed.) 

Together with Mathilde and Manfred in Sydney earlier this year, the last time I saw her in person.  

Nor did she restrict her generosity to family. For anyone and everyone, especially those who might be friendless or alone, she went the extra mile to support them. She volunteered in all sorts of community organisations, and often had tales of how small kindnesses made a world of difference to struggling people. 

When I look back on her life, I think of the quote from Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale about "No one ever said you would live to see the repercussions of everything you do", and I imagine the ripples of her kindness still spreading out into the world, quietly affecting countless lives for the better. It's so easy these days to think that only awful people have power, since that's mostly what we hear about online and on the news. But there's power in kindness, too. 

I'm really going to miss Mathilde. I feel incredibly fortunate to have known her. I may not be an extrovert the way she was, but I can only hope that I can in some way live up to her example. 

I'll do a different post another day sharing more of what I've been up to - I should soon have some writing news to share. For now, the short version is that all is well at Casa Schafer, apart from our grief. I'm done with surgeries and back to full health and writing and plenty of mountain adventures. In recent years, as her health prevented her from traveling the way she would have liked, Mathilde often told us not to wait to do the things we love, to travel and explore while health permits, because it won't do so forever. It's advice I've certainly taken to heart. 

Mathilde always loved flowers. I wish I could have taken her to this tulip farm near Wanaka, which I just discovered this spring. I hope that beyond death, she still feels our love. 

State of the Schafer: All work and no writing, but planning to reverse that soon

 Right, so, here I am realizing again that it's been many months since I last updated this little blog, and I should probably at least tell people I'm alive! I'm much better about updating and posting pictures on Facebook, mostly because everything in our area of New Zealand runs off of Facebook & Messenger, from local businesses to hobby groups to school notifications to friends talking to each other. (I don't necessarily think this is a good thing, but it's definitely a thing.)

So, for those of you not on Facebook (oh blessed souls), here's the deal - I am indeed alive and almost fully recovered from last year's big mastectomy + DIEP flap reconstruction surgery. I say "almost" because I'm still working on regaining some flexibility, but other than that, I'm pretty much back to where I was before in terms of fitness and core strength, hooray. 

First major proof of recovery: going powder skiing in Japan. I was more cautious than normal, and occasionally needed a hand up after falling in deep powder, but Japan's terrain is relatively gentle so I could still charge pretty hard through the trees. 

Another major step in recovery: climbing a very steep trail to Liverpool Hut in Mt Aspiring National Park

So happy to be out in the mountains again

I had a little scare recently at my first follow-up surveillance scan, when ultrasound picked up a new cyst in my remaining "normal" breast, and but happily that proved to be benign (to my great relief). I do have one more small surgery coming up in early June - this is the "phase 2" of my reconstruction, where the surgeon will smooth out the scar around the flap - but it's supposed to be a much easier recovery, only a week off work instead of months. 

Speaking of work, running both the data science and atmospheric science teams at MetService has kept me extremely busy since last year's surgery - too busy to do much with writing or publishing. But! Going through major surgery and recovery has made me realize there are a bunch of things I've been putting off for "some day" that I had better hurry up and do while I am healthy and energetic enough to do them. None of us are guaranteed a future, and I feel that all the more keenly now. 

I've decided to leave MetService and focus for a time on all the things that have had to get pushed aside in recent years in favor of work. Writing is in this category, along with a whole passel of active adventures. I've still got several weeks of work to go, since I'll be finishing out the NZ fiscal year, which ends 30 June, to make the transition easier on my teams. But soon, I'll be shifting focus in a big way. I'm really excited about diving into creative endeavors again. 

We celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary recently, and are hoping to have many more adventures together during the year ahead

State of the Schafer: All good news

 Very happy to report that all is well with me! I had my big surgery back in August and my recovery is going along fine. It was indeed a major surgery - 11 hours on the table, and many weeks stuck in bed afterward waiting for the incisions to heal - but I didn't have any serious complications. (Just some minor ones. For example, I've never had trouble with surgical tape before, but in the aftermath of this surgery, my skin suddenly decided that all types of adhesive were the work of the devil. I was blistering up under most types of tape like a vampire exposed to holy water. This was decidedly not awesome, especially with a huge hip to hip abdominal incision that needed dressings on it to stay protected and closed. But! With some creativity on the part of the medical team, I made it through without any infection or other more serious trouble.)

A certain bed hog dog kept thinking the comfy pillows were all for him

Now my incisions are finally healed over, I'm back at work, and in another week, I get to start on rebuilding my core muscles and regaining fitness. Can't wait to get out on trails again. Best of all, the pathology report on removed tissue and lymph nodes showed no sign of any higher stage cancer, whew. I'm in the clear until my next follow up scan, which will be early next year. I'm delighted to not have to think about it anymore until then. 

Enjoying some winter sunshine with my husband at a beach near Dunedin

Thanks so much to all of you who messaged me with book and TV show recommendations. That definitely helped keep me happy and distracted during the long recovery. Now that I've got some energy and mental focus back, I've started writing again, and I'm finally getting off my butt to seek a cover artist for The White Serpent. I'm also exploring the possibility of finally getting an audiobook made for The Labyrinth of Flame. I've always felt bad when audiobook fans email me asking why the final volume of the series isn't available. It would be cool to fix that. 

State of the Schafer: in which there is more cancer (but also more mountains)

 If you follow me on Facebook or BlueSky, you might've seen that I've been posting pics from recent adventures in California's Sierra Nevada. The Sierra, of course, are the mountains that inspired the Whitefires in my Shattered Sigil trilogy, and oh gosh, how lovely it was to walk in them again. I do adore NZ's majestic Southern Alps, but the Sierra remain the mountains of my heart. There's just something about their jagged white granite silhouetted against indigo sky and reflected in turquoise lakes that never fails to exalt me and leave me in awe.

Our group rounding Royce Lake, high in the Sierra

And boy did I need some exaltation. Earlier this year, I got some unwelcome news from yet another biopsy. I've got more very early stage breast cancer lurking in the same breast that had the lumpectomy 2 years ago. Like last time, it's contained in the duct and therefore not considered invasive (yet), but as this is the 2nd time around, the doctors want to be more aggressive. All at once, I was looking at a mastectomy, and trying to decide between a plethora of options. Single? Double? Reconstruction or not?

I'd always assumed that if more cancer was found, I'd just tell the doctors to chop both breasts off. I've never felt that breasts define me as a woman. Nor do I care how feminine I look, or how I fill out clothes. (I pretty much live in t-shirts and hiking pants.) Yet I do care about functionality of my body, and that brought a stumbling block I hadn't previously considered. Mastectomy means losing most sensation from the area due to severed nerves, even if you have reconstruction - unless you go to one of a very few surgeons that offer "resensation" nerve grafting, which is still rather experimental and has a relatively low success rate. 

I found that sensation was actually important to me, and so I decided to do only a single mastectomy and keep the "healthy" breast, given that genetic testing found no evidence that I have any mutations relating to increased risk of cancer. That doesn't mean I don't have a bad gene lurking, since there's still plenty left for scientists to discover, but it makes it less likely. I'd learned that cancer-related decisions are all about weighing likelihoods and probabilities. There's no crystal ball, no way to obtain certainty about the future. As one doctor said to me, you just have to make the best decision you can with the information you have at the time. 

So. Given that I decided to keep the healthy breast, I found symmetry was also important to me - not because of looks, but due to function. I didn't want to worry about muscle imbalances. Yet I also didn't want implants - I've known too many women who've had a lot of trouble with them, everything from painful capsular contracture to autoimmune issues. That led me to considering DIEP flap reconstruction. This is where a skilled microsurgeon takes a big ol' chunk of your abdominal fat & skin, reshapes it, and essentially transplants it up to the breast area. When it works, it works really well. The fat is still you, meaning real living tissue; it's pretty much the same as the fat that used to make up the breast. The downside is that the transplanting turns the mastectomy into seriously major surgery, with correspondingly higher risks. It means ten hours or more under anaesthesia, and a long, tough recovery thanks to a hip-to-hip abdominal incision. 

The surgeons say I'm a good candidate. I'm "young" (in cancer terms, at least - I figure this is the last time in my life when I'll be told by multiple people how young I am!), and fit, and healthy apart from the abnormal cells lurking in my breast ducts. I've decided to go for DIEP, as it offers the chance of the best outcome. If I can slog my way up challenging passes in the Sierra, I can endure a tough recovery. (I hope!) 

Climbing sandy slippery terrain toward an unnamed pass we nicknamed "Mordor Pass"

Tomorrow is the big day. Single mastectomy plus immediate DIEP reconstruction is the plan. I'll be off work for two months to recover. Since I won't be able to do much exercise while healing, I figure it's a good opportunity to catch up on books, movies, and TV shows I haven't had time to enjoy. I've been asking friends for recommendations, and accumulated quite a list already, but I'm always open to more. If you have recs to share from the last few years, please do leave a comment or get in touch! 

And cross your fingers for me. If I'm honest, I'm pretty scared they'll find the cancer has turned invasive when they do the pathology. But that's part of the future I can't control. All I can do is take one step at a time, and hope I will one day enjoy more moments like this:

Loving life on top of Feather Pass

State of the Schafer: Another Big Catch-up

 Once again, it's been a while. This time, my silence has mostly been due to work. In addition to being Head of Data Science at New Zealand's national weather forecast provider MetService, back in December I also took on the role of acting Head of Atmospheric Science. Double the people to look after, double the projects to run, and a steep learning curve, ooof! But it was really important for the atmospheric team to have someone advocating for them and ensuring their work gets visibility and appropriate priority - especially in these days of increasing threat from extreme rain events. My double role shouldn't last forever, as MetService will be merging into a new "earth sciences" institute that will also contain climate research center NIWA and geological science center GNS. But for now, there's lots to do and many trips to MetService and NIWA offices in Wellington. 

The supercomputer at NIWA where weather models are run. Yes, it takes a huge amount of electricity, but in NZ 88% of our electricity is now from renewable sources (hopefully soon to be even more, with offshore wind farms in development)

Working in the weather forecasting space, it has been deeply dismaying to see the gutting of NOAA and national weather service and other vital scientific organizations going on over in the US. (Among so many other dismaying things!) But...it's not exactly a surprise. The current administration was pretty plain about what they intended, and people voted for them anyway. Now the consequences of that vote will play out. My heart goes out to everyone who didn't vote for this future but will have to endure it regardless. On the science front, at least those of us in other countries can work to pick up the baton and keep moving forward. The ECMWF, for example, is doing terrific work in providing open data access and research platforms such as Anemoi (a framework for building machine learning weather models). 

Enough about work, though. On the writing front, I have been chipping away at revisions on some short stories, and inching toward publication of The White Serpent. Inching here means creating an ebook and having a friend test it on a host of platforms (thank you, Lada!). Last step is finding a cover artist. I know, I know, I've been talking about finding an artist for ages...Dave Palumbo who did the art for the first three Shattered Sigil books is a bit too expensive to hire for a brand new piece for something self-published without the aid of a Kickstarter, so I just need to set aside the time to do some research and find someone in my budget range. (No, I won't be using AI. AI is awesome for weather modelling, but when it comes to art, I'd prefer to support a human artist.) 

I'm also still making time for outdoor adventures. It's so easy to get sucked into a spiral of doomscrolling and feel like there is nothing good going on anywhere. But even if the world's future turns out as bleak as many scientists fear, there's still beauty and wonder out there right now. Go out and enjoy it, because the world may well never look quite like this again. Here's a sampling of my own adventures of the past months:

Rock formations in the Whitsunday Islands, Australia

Snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reef - after all the recent bleaching events, there are no longer so many soft corals as I remember, but lots of hard corals and giant clams and fish remain

View of the Canadian Rockies from Revelstoke - the skiing was steep and excellent

The kiddo charging down his favorite Revelstoke run

We always forget to take family selfies while actually adventuring, so here's a city shot of all 3 of us, taken by a friend while we were in Vancouver

Back at home, the kiddo spent many summer days bodyboarding in the whitewater park on the Hawea River

Perfect dogwalking day at the lake

Veteran SFF authors Delia Sherman and Ellen Kushner stopped in Wanaka during their travels around New Zealand - it was great to spend time with them!

View of Lake Hawea from Breast Peak, which I hiked up as part of the "Hike for a Cure" fundraiser for breast cancer research

Autumn colours in Arrowtown - one of the few spots in NZ where you get a really vibrant display (due to non-native trees)

Celebrating my birthday with a hike to Lake Marian in Fiordland

Fiordland is full of waterfalls

On the way to Doubtful Sound

Doubtful Sound - I took about a million pictures but none of them do the scale justice

Misty mountain walking

First snow of the year on the peaks backing Lake Hawea

Evening view of Lake Wanaka from the track up Roy's Peak

State of the Schafer: Busy, but not too busy to vote

 Let's start with good news! In my last post, I mentioned that my first follow-up mammogram had turned up some new areas of concern. I didn't want to talk much about it then because I was so sick of worrying over it. My doctor had been warning me that based on the look of the calcifications seen on the mammogram, he felt fairly sure more very-early-stage cancer would be found, in which case he'd recommend full mastectomy. Happily, after several rounds of biopsies to be sure, including a surgical biopsy, nothing cancerous was found. Phew! I can't tell you what a relief that was. It was also a relief when I had a full "cancer panel" genetic test done that came back clear for any risk-increasing mutations. 

That said, there are no guarantees for the future. Plenty of breast cancer shows up in women who lack any obvious genetic markers. The doctors still intend to keep a close eye on me, with scans every few months. But since the surgical biopsy in August, I've been in the clear, which is a wonderful place to be. 

Clear skies ahead (taken on my daily dog walk by the lake)

Around the time of my final surgical biopsy in August, winter really kicked into gear, with storms dumping fresh snow one after the other onto our local ski areas. I enjoyed some great powder days, which was a lovely way to celebrate my new clean bill of health. 

The kiddo following me down the summit slopes of Treble Cone

The snow hasn't stopped yet, although it is now mid-spring and the ski areas are closed. Just a few days ago, we had snow all the way down to lake level for the first time this year. (Lovely big fluffy snowflakes falling, too, my favorite kind to watch.) 

Most times, the snow line stays high on the mountains, so it's exciting when we get snow on the grass!

Work at MetService has kept me very busy, with multiple trips up to Wellington, plus my first trip to another MetService office in Raglan. (So, yeah, any non-work writing continues to creep along at a very slow pace. I guess I need to make a decision soon about whether to go ahead and publish The White Serpent without waiting to add a short story.) 

 The NZ government announced a decision "in principle" to combine MetService (whose responsibility is near term weather forecasting), and NIWA (whose responsibility is seasonal & climate forecasting), so it'll be interesting to see how that goes! The details of how the merger will work are still being hashed out, and new legislation will have to be passed, so it's not a fast process. But most everyone at both institutions, me included, agrees the merge makes sense. (The review that recommended the merge was started under the prior government and agreed to by the current one, so it's not really a political decision.)

Beach near the town of Raglan

Aaaaaand speaking of politics, I may be a NZ citizen now but I still retain my US citizenship (and have to file US taxes), so you better believe that I made sure to vote in the upcoming US election - and that I voted for Harris. 

I wish I could say I was shocked that the election is predicted to be so close. How anyone could listen to Trump and think it's a good idea to vote for him is so dismaying I don't even have words. I'd try harder to find words if I thought it would matter. But how do you have a conversation when today's Republican voters don't seem to understand there's such a thing as objective truth? It doesn't matter what facts or evidence they are provided. If it doesn't conform to their beliefs, it gets dismissed instantly as "lies", without the step of actually evaluating or considering the evidence. 

This is a problem for which I can't see a solution, and that's what makes me the most afraid for the US's future. I hope that's just a failure of my imagination. Just because I can't see a solution doesn't mean there isn't one. If Harris wins, at least that gives the nation four more years of (relatively) sane government, and that is no small thing. All I can do is vote and pray. 

Hope in dark times (Rainbow seen over Taramea Bay, Riverton)

State of the Schafer: Deep in gratitude

Friday marked a public holiday in New Zealand to celebrate Matariki, which in Māori tradition signals winter taking hold of the land. It's marked by the rise of the star cluster Matariki (also known as the Pleiades) in the nighttime skies, and begins a time for reflection as one cycle draws to an end and another begins. I figured that was a good reminder that I ought to post one of my "Yes, I'm still alive" missives here, complete with reflection on the months past. 

2024 has certainly been a busy year, I started my new role as Head of Data Science over at MetService, and wow there's been so much to learn about forecasting models and extreme weather events, plus all the ins and outs of how the company operates. (Unlike many countries' main weather forecasting services, MetService is not a government department, but a "state owned enterprise", run as a separate company expected to make profit as well as provide weather information and warnings to the New Zealand public.) 

I love the challenge of the job, the strong sense of purpose, and I'm working with a great team. The only downside is that using so much brainpower at work means I feel like I don't have much left after hours! I'd say my writing pace has slowed to a crawl, but it was already a crawl, so...a glacial creep, perhaps? 

That said, I'm delighted to tell you I finally (FINALLY!!) finished the last edits on The White Serpent. The final version clocks in at ~66K words, still in that awkward realm where it's too long to be called a novella, but seems short for a novel. I'm thinking I ought to finish the Ruslan short story and include them together in one volume. Given my glacial pace, I do worry how long that will take me. If I can't finish the Ruslan story in the next few months, then I might go ahead and publish without it. Either way, I need to start looking for a cover artist. 

One of my other goals for 2024 was to seek out some new adventures, and happily, that's been going to plan. I started off the year with an overnight trip to Mueller Hut, which I'd been wanting to visit for ages. 

Mueller Hut

Aoraki (Mt. Cook) looming over the morning fog layer

Mueller Hut, with Mt Sefton behind, and Aoraki in the distance

Right after that, we headed off for our first-ever trip to Japan. Ever since seeing footage in old Warren Miller movies of skiers floating through bottomless powder in scenic forests, I've wanted to try skiing in Hokkaido. This year, I finally got my wish - and yes, the powder is as epic as those movies made it look. We didn't take many pics while skiing because we were too busy enjoying it! 

Tree skiing heaven

Winter wonderland in Rusutsu

We also did a bunch of sightseeing in Tokyo and Kyoto. I'm not that big of a city person, but I did love the Ghibli Museum and the teamLab Planets interactive art installation in Tokyo, and the bamboo forests and shrines of Kyoto. Plus, we were joined on the trip by friends from Colorado, and it was really great to spend time with them again.  

Robert and I at the Ghibli Museum

Alien eggs at teamLab Planets (or at least, they look like alien eggs to me!)

Bamboo forest

Torii gates at Fushimi Inari

After returning from Japan, I started at MetService, spending the first week up at their main offices in Wellington so I could meet everyone. Wellington is famous for terrible weather, but every time I visit, it's gorgeous. I mean, look at this:

Wellington Harbour from the observation deck of Te Papa museum

In the evenings after work, I had a grand time wandering the botanic gardens and hidden pockets of green scattered throughout the city. My favorite of these is probably Bolton Street Cemetery. It's a historic cemetery where the graves are tucked in amid trees and flowering plants; the greenery is so thick you'd never know that the bustle and traffic of the CBD is right next door.

One of the many quiet niches of the cemetery

Not too long after returning home to Hawea, I celebrated my birthday with a climb up New Zealand's only operating via ferrata route. Via ferrata routes use cables and iron rungs to make it possible to climb cliffs that would otherwise be too difficult, at least for a cautious climber like myself. A local company called Wildwire created a route near Wanaka that climbs up past several long waterfalls. It was really fun! 

The kiddo and I, ready to tackle the route. (Yes, he really has grown that much taller than I am!)

Ascending the route

Enjoying the view (me in the middle, the kiddo below)

This was my favorite part of the route

Having a great birthday

Another great milestone came when husband finished all the paragliding flights needed to get his paraglider pilot's license. (You have to take two courses, an exam, and complete something like 40 flights under supervision of an instructor before you can get a license to fly solo.) Paragliding, if you're not familiar, is where you raise a big fabric wing like a giant parachute kite tied to your harness, run off the mountainside, and then float around on air currents until you land. I haven't tried it myself yet - maybe once Robert gets experienced enough to safely take me tandem - but I'm delighted he's found a new sport to love.

Robert making his run off a launch site on the side of Coronet Peak

Robert in the air after taking off

The huge geomagnetic storm that hit in May gave me the chance to achieve a lifetime dream: seeing the aurora australis. Where we live in New Zealand is far enough south to get occasional sightings of the aurora, but seemed like every time it was strong enough to see, either the sky was cloudy or I was too tired to get up and look for it. This time, the conditions lined up perfectly. The sky was wholly clear, and the aurora was bright right after sunset. And boy, talk about bright! Friends who've seen the aurora in NZ had talked about diffuse glows and muted colors often only visible through a camera lens. This time, the colors were vivid with the naked eye, beams of pink and green covering the entire sky. I was in absolute awe. I never thought I'd see an aurora on this scale unless I somehow managed to get to Norway or Antarctica. 

I took these with my cellphone, and haven't enhanced the pics at all

Now in June, the ski season has begun, and this year there's actually snow on the ground, woo hoo! (Last year the ski fields had to delay their opening for weeks.) Climate change is hitting NZ ski fields pretty hard - the season gets shorter and shorter, and the snow line higher and higher - so I treasure any days I can get. My favorite local area, Treble Cone, opened this weekend, and while they only had about two runs open, they were allowing hiking access to the terrain above the chairs. I'm willing to walk for my turns, especially when the views are stupendous. 

Rest stop

Earning my turns

Not everything's been great about 2024, of course, and I don't just mean the state of the wider world (which continues to dismay and sadden me). My first follow-up scan after last year's breast cancer treatment picked up some more areas of concern, which has meant a round of several painful biopsies and a lot of stress and uncertainty. One spot turned out benign, whew, and I certainly hope the rest will too, but the doctors aren't done checking. The uncertainty is hard, but all I can do is put it out of my mind as best I can. 

Comet's exuberance as he races around on a walk always reminds me that life is for living

I've had a lot to be grateful for so far in 2024, and not just in terms of adventures. One of my favorite authors, Janny Wurts, published the big conclusion to her 11-volume mega-epic Wars of Light and Shadow series. She's been writing this series since the early 90s, persevering through all kinds of publishing hurdles, and I can't even tell you how awesome it is to see her masterwork completed. (Why do I love it so much? Janny is one of those authors like Dorothy Dunnett who can pull off intricate, careful plotting through a multi-volume series without sprawl and with multiple layers of reveals. I can't get enough of "board to the head" moments when a later scene opens the reader's understanding in a whole new way and prior scenes are cast in a totally different light. I'm always in awe of authors who can pull that off well.) 

Re-reading the whole series so I can best appreciate the final volume has been a terrific way to escape worries (whether over my own health or the state of the world). Thank you to Janny and every author out there creating worlds that give illumination and comfort.