I, for one, can never get enough of winter fun. Living in San Francisco, a trip to the mountains is easy but requires some planning and often ice skating indoors has to satisfy my cravings.

In Ottawa, Ontario, workers and students can ice-skate commute (skammute?) on the Rideau Canal Skateway. The 4.8-mile-long, 26-foot-wide frozen canal is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  Visitors can rent skates, and warm up spots, cafes and other amenities dot the route. It is of course a popular tourist attraction and the centerpiece of Winterlude, a three-week-long winter festival including ice sculptures, skate clinics and Snowflake Kingdom, a snowy playground wonderland.

The world’s largest naturally frozen ice rink has been open for more than 40 years. The average length of the skating season is 50 days. The Rideau Canal skate season typically runs from December to mid March. Some years it is extended to as much as 95 days and you can check ice conditions daily. Moms pushing strollers mingle with commuters and school kids, making rush hour a busy affair on the ice. It gets cold in Ottawa and many insist a packet of tissues is mandatory to fend off the runny noses. Some prefer hockey skates, others speed skates or figure skates. Canadians are of course big ice enthusiasts!

Ottawa, Canada’s capital, is home to some great museums, imposing structures and fine restaurants welcoming an international diplomatic core. If you’re like me and love the idea of a long outdoor skate, Ottawa might be calling.

We are headed to a house, inaccessible by road in winter. Set on 100 acres of land, the generosity of the owners allows us to live out my alpine fantasies.  We snowshoe or ski one mile into the house, carrying backpacks and pulling a sled full of all our gear, food and an occasional small child.

As I write, a few loaves of Swedish bread are in the oven baking for the trip. Thoughts of chopping down our own Christmas tree and frying latkes for Chanukah at altitude dance in my head.

My mind wanders to a book I just read my youngest son. Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, of Little House on the Prairie fame, is a classic. Even though I read it as a child, and was a big fan of the TV show in my youth, reading it aloud to my son was inspiring all over again. To live off the land, reap what you sow, eat with the seasons and really earn your keep has a lot of appeal these days. Even though we’re going off the grid, it will be far less arduous than what the Ingalls and Wilder families experienced more than 150 years ago.

If, like me, you are taken with the books and history of the time, you can visit the Wilder Homestead (boyhood home of Almanzo, Laura’s future husband) in Malone, NY, near the Canadian border. One winter scene, from the book, sticks in my mind… as the young boy, his father and two hired men cut ice from the frozen lake to store and keep food fresh for the year. They literally cut thick blocks of ice from the surface of the lake and haul them back to the shed on sleds. Almanzo falls in accidentally and narrowly escapes death.

The blizzards described in the book series sound so epic. As I read this book I wondered if winters in the Upstate region are still as harsh, given climate change. This is a photo of pond hockey in the Lake Placid region.

Recent articles in the New York Times speak of fir and spruce trees dying out in the Catskills, apple orchard varieties diminished and less productive dairy farms in the region.

The Adirondacks — host to two winter Olympics — in the future, may not be the winter paradise they once were, as snow and ice have become less intense during the winter months. Lake Champlain, a popular vacation spot that divides New York and Vermont, used to freeze over completely every winter. Now, some years, milder winters keep it unfrozen in the middle. Flooding from the August tropical storm Irene was a harbinger of things to come.

Despite all of this depressing information, and news that our destination in the Sierras has very little snow as of today, makes me wistful… but come hell or high water, I plan to live out my winter wonderland fantasy nonetheless.

We drove through Yosemite a few weekends ago. It was packed with summer travelers and waterfall gawkers. The major falls are glorious, and fuller than they have been in years. New, smaller falls have even appeared much to the delight of park goers.

As we drove through the park, out past Mono Lake, we were stunned by the high water levels and snowy peaks in early July. We laughed, thinking that we could even cross-country ski in some spots above 7000 feet.

Record snowfalls this winter and heavy unseasonable rain in summer have made conditions epic for nature lovers but also hazardous.

Yosemite is drawing crowds, and visitors to the park should exercise caution while viewing the many falls and swollen creeks and rivers. Since June, there have been at least two people confirmed dead and two missing and presumed dead. The park has banned water rafting on the Merced River until the flows subside to their normal levels.

My son and a group of friends made the trek to Wapama Falls, a wonderful hike which wraps around the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. The photos were astounding, but just days later a Doctor and a friend, both experienced backpackers, were swept away by the torrents when crossing a small footbridge.  Sobering for the folks who took my son, who in hindsight, were fearful of the awesome cascade.

As we made our way back to the Sierras, we stayed at a friend’s house near Kirkwood Ski Resort. I took a short walk, alone, down to the “creek,” heretofore a tiny trickle, where as toddlers, my kids frolicked. At nearly 8,000 feet in elevation, the mule ears were just sprouting and snow patches still remained in early July. I decided to cross the creek and make a circle. Quickly I aborted my attempt. This repeated several times as the current was just too treacherous. I realized I was on my own and if swept away, it would not be a good scene.  I finally found a reasonable crossing point, and with numb legs and feet, made my way to the other side. Not only is the water higher, but it felt colder.

A recent article by Jane Brody in the New York Times Science section offers simple, but useful tips for both beach and mountain water fun. So get out and enjoy the majesty, but respect the elements and have caution!

Sand between my toes, melting popsicles, chlorine-y or salty hair, ripe tomatoes, fresh corn, eating outdoors, thunderstorms and fireflies—a few of my East Coast childhood summer memories. The idea of fireflies, or lightning bugs, as they are sometimes called, is just so charming, and in some ways a symbol of a simpler time. No iPhones or email, no TiVo or Internet, just a bug catcher and a jar….

Fireflies are everywhere this June. My kids listen to about 10 songs, as much as I try to curate their musical tastes, they’ll have to discover their own style. One of their favorites right now is Fireflies by Owl City. It’s a sweet song and the lyrics are very uncontroversial. My husband is also hooked on an old TV series called Firefly dubbed an America Space Western, by those in the know. Add to that, a great little restaurant, Firefly, in San Francisco, that we love…and then I came across this New York Times article about fireflies drawing hordes of tourists in Tennessee. This was the antidote to fast-paced modern life I needed to read about.

Apparently, there is a light show every night at this time of year in Elkmont, Tennessee near Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Folks gather at a trail head with camping chairs and wait for the Mother Nature’s ritual performance. Called “mind-blowing,” “a silent symphony” and likened to the aurora borealis or a solar eclipse, this is no small show.

You don’t have to be a science geek to enjoy the spectacle. Elkmont’s firefly population is the largest in the Western hemisphere. So thick are the masses of bugs that you have to carve your way around them. There is concern that all the attention will cause ill-effects for the bugs. But for now, the two-week annual engagement is sold out…or at least feeding visitors’ need to enjoy natural phenomenon.

Besides passion and the global sports stage, Brazilians have a lot to cheer about. As many Western developed countries still wallow in the mud of recession, Brazil’s economy is dynamic. Record soybean harvests show agricultural clout, a sugarcane/ethanol boom demonstrates forward thinking environmental strategies and a new female president highlight that Brazil is on the move. Strides are being made against poverty and crime, and Brazil’s role in the world order is shifting.

Brazil is a member of BRIC. In economic terms BRIC is an acronym, a term coined in 2001 that refers to the countries of Brazil, Russia, India and China, which are all seemingly at a similar stage of newly advanced economic development. In fact, these days the U.S. is considering changes to our visa system to woo tourists and facilitate the process for visitors from these countries. Disposable income for many is a new thing and certainly travel is on their mind.

For visitors to Brazil, there is so much to see in this, the largest country in South America. From the high tech worlds of Brasilia and Sao Paolo to Rio’s cultural Mecca and the Amazon rainforest, Brazil is a fascinating travel stew. The more relaxed city of Salvador in the northeast was my favorite area, but I wouldn’t miss a visit to Iguaçu Falls on the Argentina border. The beaches and the beach culture never fail to impress and amuse. It is the people who bring the country to life. I would travel back to Brazil in a heartbeat.

Brazil tourism is even cashing in on the new film RIO, the animated story about tropical birds. Interest in family trips to Rio de Janeiro are up according to Travel Weekly and this keeps Brazil in the cultural conversation and segues nicely to the upcoming big global sporting events.

100 miles north of San Francisco, the drive takes a good three hours if you take time to gawk at the Oscar winning coastline. We often stop in Bodega Bay for a fish and chips or clam chowder lunch to break up the drive. This time, my seven-year-old discovered he gets carsick, and if you are prone to motion sickness this drive will surely bring it on.

Sea Ranch was a pioneering eco-community begun in the late ’60s and early ’70s. The connection between the landscape and the architecture is beautiful and certainly contributes to the serenity of the place. I dislike gated communities or housing developments in general, but this place really has captured the benefits of a uniform style with strong community ethos. The sometimes simple, sometimes elaborate wood-frame structures were inspired by the local ranches and are designed to cope with the weather and integrate well with the topography.

We were invited to a beautiful rental house with our friends and planned a feast of a menu; after all, you work up an appetite strolling along the rugged coast. Our friends always insist on renting a house with a hot tub with a view of the sea and I must say, taking a dip with my morning coffee in tow before the kids awoke was a simple pleasure I won’t soon forget. This particular house was perched on the cliffs, and waking up to the Pacific Ocean view does wonders for the soul and spirit. When you add a roaring fire and a cocktail at sunset into the mix, then you’re really talking relaxation.

We brought bikes, yoga mats, board games, books and baking projects and we all read a ton! I switched between Patti Smith’s Just Kids and reading my little one The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, which we found on the bookshelf.

This house was owned by a writer and the bookshelves were organized and labeled like a library; a nice touch. Like the book, where the Little Prince famously asks the Aviator to draw him a sheep, a flock of sheep is used at Sea Ranch to keep grass cut low to the ground to reduce the threat of fire during the summer months. It was a tender moment when we made that connection.

There is an elegant pool that is kept heated in the winter. Very few folks braved the cold weather to take a dip, but a dry sauna made the pool all the more enticing, particularly after an invigorating bike ride against the wind. With seals basking on the rocks along the coast and clear crisp February weather, one of the best moments was making a driftwood fort on the beach.

Prices on rentals range about $200-$500 a night depending on location, size and amenities. It is a perfect venue for family reunions, romantic getaways or multi-family trips. Even in the rain or mist, Sea Ranch is a great place to unwind.

There are many popular canoeing rivers in Northern California. The Sacramento River, from Red Bluff, 30 miles downriver in the shadows of Mount Shasta, to Woodson Bridge, is not one of them.

It was July 4th weekend so we were expecting crowds, and save for a few kayakers and boat enthusiasts, we pretty much had the river to ourselves.  We had planned a moderate backpacking trip but when one in our party had abrupt knee surgery in April, we opted to paddle to our campsite instead of forcing the kids to hike with packs a la the Bataan Death March.  The preparations were similar to a backpacking trip, but we could bring comfy pads and a cooler. I was concerned about tipping the canoe, but my friend hails from Minnesota and has done this sort of thing before.

We rented canoes at the Driftwood RV and Fishing Resort in Los Molinos, CA. The crowd at the park was definitely more of a beer drinking, horseshoe throwing, BBQ crowd, some more hardscrabble than others. The equipment we rented was in great condition and they provided life jackets (of course) and unexpected cushions and small portable seat backs, which made the trip that much more comfortable.

It must be said that the Sacramento River flows, so the canoeing is anything but arduous. We actually did a lot of floating, which was fine with me, since I was in a canoe alone with my two boys, ages 10 and 6. It was glorious, and gave us time to enjoy the scenery. We saw tons of birds: osprey, pelicans, an eagle, egrets and even though the water was chilly we often pulled ashore to frolic and sort of swim. The temperature was in the 100’s so the snow melt temperature of the water was much appreciated.

The first night we canoed back to the Driftwood, feeling a bit insecure about the whole thing and wanting to get our proverbial feet wet first. This spot is clean, well maintained and has that feel of most camp sites, like perhaps they had their heyday in the ’70s. The manager was sweet and brought us pastries in the morning and charged the kids 40 cents for cans of generic “pop.”

The second night, we decided to pull up on shore and set up camp. We were told (and did a bit of research) that the banks are pretty much public land, so we could pitch a tent anywhere we pleased. The challenge was picking a spot and not feeling like there might be a better one around the bend.

It was a perfect spot and the kids enjoyed the clay-like mud. Having been engrossed in the FIFA World Cup, they were smitten with South African names and promptly named the mud “Mbele”… literally hours of mud play ensued, what more could you ask for an outdoor adventure? No ipod, video games or TV, even if the photo looks a bit like Lord of the Flies. We cooked on backpacking stoves, enjoyed the sunset and slept surprisingly well.

You can explore the small offshoots of the river, finding a variety of small beaches and spots to investigate. We finished up our journey and the Driftwood folks met us to take our gear back to the RV Park. They hired a local to drive one of our cars to meet us — all in all a pretty seamless adventure.

I was visiting my good friend and her family recently and they decided to take me on a bike ride on the stellar Norwottuck Bike Trail, a 9.5-mile path linking Northampton, Hadley, and Amherst.  Norwottuck, the Native American name for Northampton means the midst of the river.

We set out on a humid day, ready for a mellow ride, their house was just a block from the entrance to the trail which made departure easy. Living in San Francisco, I’m unused to flat trails and enjoyed the fast and smooth ride and the natural breeze given the weather. Crossing an old train bridge was novel, and with a view of the river it made a perfect rest point and photo op. We passed families, dog walkers, folks of all shapes and sizes enjoying being out  and active.

Our journey took us to Hadley where we climbed the dike to the Connecticut River, wildflowers hugging the shore and kayakers paddling in the distance. I was surprised by the huge display of American flags covering the Colonial Houses. It was Memorial Day weekend, but I had assumed that the lefty politics of the area would preclude ostentatious displays of Americana patriotism. Apparently, though, Amherst has a large military population.

It was asparagus season, and I bought a bunch of asparagus grass to bring back to my mom in NYC. I loved the sign on the stand and the honor system of payment.

On the way back, we stopped at a trendy Woodstar Cafe in Northampton. My friends bumped into loads of their friends and colleagues, as I relished the superb coffee. We returned home and soon thereafter I hopped on Amtrak with my bundle of asparagus headed for the Big Apple. Over the years I have written stories about Rails to Trails in Washington DC, Monterey, CA and Boston, it was satisfying to finally enjoy the benefits of this great program.

The High Line, an elevated garden built on an old freight railroad line, runs through Chelsea and the Meat Packing district, which, like most of Manhattan, is now upscale. When I was growing up, this area was treacherous, true meat packing was going on as well as other nefarious activities. Today, the neighborhood is bustling with fancy shops and the new High Line is a treasure to behold.

Initially built in 1934, the raised tracks fell into disrepair when the last train ran in 1980. Two locals from the neighborhood spearheaded the renovations, and with cooperation and money from the city, the newly renovated High Line opened to the public a year ago. The plantings are wild and yet beautifully landscaped, with gardeners working daily.

My visit on a muggy June day was literally a breath of fresh air. The views of the city are so different, looking down a street from upon high. There are wooden chaise longues to recline and take in some sun, a small café and a new water element under construction.  The day I was there, it was a mix of locals and tourists, lots of moms with strollers…I even caught a glimpse of a butterfly resting on the grasses. There are plans to extend the High Line to 30th Street.

If you are making a visit to NY I highly recommend a trip there and if you are hankering for some nibbles, head to the Chelsea Market nearby where you can find everything from scrumptious lobster bisque to the most outrageous baked treats.

My sister moved to Williamsburg, Brooklyn from Manhattan more than 15 years ago. She shared a cute 1BR apartment and paid a fraction of Manhattan rental rates. Ownership of a yoga studio, a marriage, and two kids later, she still lives in Williamsburg, but now in a loft overlooking the Williamsburg Bridge. The area has changed, from a bustling Eastern European immigrant crowd, to hipsters and artists… to hipsters and artists with kids.

I left New York before Williamsburg became one of the cool hotspots, and every time I return I marvel at the reinvention of the neighborhood.

A couple stops on the G train from Manhattan, Williamsburg was first an artist magnet in the 1970s. Drawn by the relatively low rents, large studio spaces and convenient transportation, many moved to the area.  This continued through the 1980s and increased dramatically in the 1990s, as other cool artist havens such as SoHo and the East Village became gentrified. Now, times are tough and trustafarian artists are having to make ends meet in different ways.

Today, Williamsburg is fast becoming the New Williamsburg, as a recent New York Times Style Magazine article boasts. Yes, I’m referring to the 18th century, Colonial Williamsburg. Apparently, folks are harking back to old times and resurrecting forgotten trades such as pickling vegetables, butchering their own pigs, beekeeping, glassblowing and perfume making.

There are still the funky shops, cool bars and gourmet eateries. Bars with great names, such as the Alligator Lounge, Bodega, Cornichon or The Gutter (the first bowling alley to open in Brooklyn in 50 years) dot the cityscape.

One of our favorite spots is a Thai place named Sea, where you can get litchi martinis and let the kids enjoy the coveted giant swings. One hot summer day I took my son to a swanky old restaurant bar and bought him an egg cream. I had gone on and on about how special the beverage  was to me and to Brooklyn lore; he hated it. A classic parental faux pas, but I still remember the cozy ambiance and distinctive hispter Brooklyn vibe in the renovated old joint. 

Galleries, music venues and small designer stores still draw tourists and locals alike, as does the stellar view of Manhattan. The best comparison to  Williamsburg, Virginia, however, is perhaps in the facial hair.  If you squint and Photoshop out the saggy pants and iphones, the mutton chops, fanciful mustaches, goatees and sideburns of the locals scream blacksmith from the 1780s!