Describing her own sabbatical year here in the Netherlands, my friend Anne told me that one of her mantras was, “If the sun is shining, better take an umbrella.”  I thought she was exaggerating.  She wasn’t. 

The weather here is variable, to put it mildly.  Sun, clouds, rain, wind—these all coexist within an hour.  This is fun to watch out of an upper-floor window, but it makes planning any activity very difficult.

This week I’ve settled into a productive writing schedule.  I like to work for an hour or two after the girls leave for school, go for a jog, work another hour, have lunch, work another hour, take a shower, and so on.  When I’m in this groove, the jog, meal, and shower become rewards for keeping my fingers on the keyboard and my mind on task for two twenty-five minute work sessions.  This is a modified version of The Pomodoro Technique, and I even use a twenty-five minute online timer called Ding.   Sounds great, right?

Here’s the problem.  Earlier this week, for two hours in the morning, I wrote and gazed lovingly at the blue sky.  Committed to my task, I kept editing the narrative at hand.  I clocked in my four Pomodoros.  Whew, time for a break.  I strapped on my running shoes and opened the door.  Pouring rain. 

I then felt like Margot in All Summer In A Day by Ray Bradbury.  Where did that sunshine go?  Will it ever come back? 

The difference between a run with the sun shining and a run under a dark cloudy sky is vast.  If there is light, then the leaves are green; the bricks are red; the sky is blue.  There is color!  If the sky is flat grey; the world is greyer too.  There are no shadows to create dimensionality.  The dial is turned down to mute.

So.  Here’s my new mantra:  if the sun is shining, go for a jog.  Leave the timer. Take it while you got it.

The twenty-five minute sessions will be there when I get home. 

In this climate, my life now seems governed by smaller increments of time.  Clocking my 25 minute pomodoros and watching the states of the sky is giving me the sense that no situation is very permanent.  It’s shaping how I see everything.  So the kids are fighting?  Don’t despair that they will be like that forever; in half an hour they may be hugging each other and giggling.  So, I’m in a bad mood?  Don’t despair that I’ll be sad for long; this afternoon I’m sure I’ll feel joy again.  Of course, the reverse is also true, but I’ll take it while I got it.

If the writing session feels long?   Don’t worry, the tomato timer will go off any second now.