It's Spring, Let It Snow!

Today is Tweede Paasdag (tuh-vay-duh pahs-dagh) or, loosly translated, Second Easter. The day after Easter. A holiday in Holland. Time for chocolate Easter egg sugar highs and food comas and...well, this year anyway...snow!

The past couple days have seen flurries on and off during the daytime, none of it really sticking. A light coating covered the ground on Easter morning, but not much to speak of. But today...today was a different story.

A whole inch of snow! Okay, sure, that's not much for what you might think of as a Northern European winter. But considering that this winter was one of the mildest on record, with hardly any snow at all, the inch overnight was something to write home about. And on the, what, 4th day of spring? Wow.

Ben was so excited when he looked out his window at 6:30am that he couldn't resist waking the rest of us to share the good news. "Daddy," he said in his best letting-mom-sleep-no-really whisper, "there's snow everywhere."

"Okay, Ben," I muttered, "that's great. Mommy and Daddy are still sleeping, though." He obediently went back into his room where, seconds later, came the unmistakable sounds of a 3.5 Richter scale rattling. Ben shaking the bunkbed to wake up Sophie.

Things had just settled down, and Jo and I figured we had lucked out en route back to sleep, when in he came again. "Daddy," Ben said in his most serious voice, "the cars probably can't drive because the road is all covered with snow too."

"Okay, Ben," I replied, eyes half open. "But it's still early. Please close your door and keep your voice down, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, hardly containing his excitement.

Just barely drifting off to sleep a few minutes later, a certain, persistent recurring chorus could be heard emanating from downstairs. "Daaaaaaaaadddeeeee....Daaaaaaaaaaaaddeeeeeeeee." Ben's voice. Then Sophie's voice. Then Ben's voice. Then Sophie's voice.

Jo and I exchanged knowing, groggy smiles.

Game over on sleeping in.

But game on for playing outside in the snow!

The Up Downs of Turning 40

Welcome to the Grand Hotel Opduin (“op-deaun”) read the sign outside the door. Josy and I had snuck away for the weekend to celebrate – or perhaps mourn the advent of – her 40th birthday.

We’d left the kids in care of one of our favorite former nannies. Ever since the kids were born, this was one of just a handful of times we’d been able to take time away overnight all by ourselves. How refreshing!

The destination was perhaps fitting for a milestone birthday getaway. The hotel sits on the west side of Texel Island, the first in the chain of islands running from the northwest corner of The Netherlands in an arc to the northeast. The islands mark a sort of breakwater between the North Sea and the Waddensee (“vahh-den-zay”), the body of water that separates the northern provinces of The Netherlands from the ocean.


With a name like Texel, an American can’t help but think of Texas. It’s not far, after all, from the British oil rigs out on the North Sea. And when pronounced with a George W. Bush twang, Opduin sounds an awful lot like “up down.”

So there we were for Josy’s 40th, ready to celebrate or have a stiff drink, at none other than the Grand Hotel Up/Down.

Just as Texel (“tess-el”) and its related islands demarcate the more placid seas of the Waddensee from the rougher, untamed expanse of the North Sea, so too did Jo feel like she was crossing the line out of youth and into…well, the great unknown. Good thing we had a GPS.

The weather did its best to underscore this transition birthday. Winds reached gale force, delaying our ferry for three hours and driving massive swells that broke through various dikes on the island and flooded a few isolated areas.

When floods occur in places like Washington state, the forecasters often caution residents living in “low lying” areas to seek safety on higher ground. But in The Netherlands, just about everywhere is a low lying area, at risk from the sea.

Expectations can make all the difference, though. And when one dreads the impending floodwaters of a 40th birthday as much as Josy did hers, it’s hard not to be pleasantly surprised.

Maybe it was the fact we were able to spend some quality time together, without rugrats underfoot.

Maybe it was the secluded, windswept beauty of the dunes along Texel’s western shore.

Perhaps it was the picture-perfect red lighthouse beckoning out to sea from Texel’s northernmost point, while we were being buffeted silly from winds that howled with sandblaster velocity and spraypaint-like coverage into ones cheeks, hair, nose, ears and any exposed areas.

Or maybe it was simply the act of getting away from it all, and finding time to reflect on bigger questions and joys, that made Josy forget the angst of 40 and remember just how good we have it. Even with all of life’s ups and downs.