Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

We had a restful(ish) Sunday: it was too darn cold and I was too exhausted to go to church, so I watched it on livestream. Not the same, but something, anyhow. I needed to sleep. I've been pouring out of a bucket for a long time, and I have not felt rested in months. So, sometimes you have to listen to the body.  I did a few minor things, went shopping downtown with Meg, and pretty much just puttered. I sent out some poem submissions, and got nice news that two poems found a home.  This week will be busy, but not insanely so, at least I hope so. The last couple of weeks were weird, due to holidays, snow days, and delays, etc. Maybe this will be a solid full week? I hope so. Somehow, those short or shortened weeks are a lot harder to manage.  We went out to dinner on Saturday to IFB, and it was so dang noisy-- not their fault, but more, over-privileged skier types with rambunctious, feral children. It's hard, living in a "destination" area, because either you don't...

Imbolc (Feb. 1) St. Brigid's Day (Feb. 1) Groundhog Day (Feb. 1) Candlemas (traditional end of Christmastide, Feb. 2) The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple (Feb. 2) O, and the 2026 Football Pro Bowl is Tues., Feb. 3 But what do these all have in common? Maybe issues of faith, both religious and secular. All of them signal we have had ENOUGH of winter.  So, leave a scarf or other fabric article of clothing outside overnight on Jan. 31 in accordance with Irish mythology; St. Brigid, as she passes through, will bless it, and you, for the upcoming year. Put away your window candles, as the light is reappearing in the northern hemisphere.  Can't say that I have any rules or traditions for the Pro Bowl. Go, AFC?  Have a good day, friends. Enjoy the returning of light and the strengthening and blessing of you and yours.  C

It's warmer still this morning; it's zero. I guess we can call that a warming trend, right? Expected highs today will be mid-teens, but it might surprise us yet. At any rate, I don't have to rush out the door this morning, and for that, I am grateful. It feels like I've been rushing hither and thither all week, and I'm intentionally taking this morning to slow things down. I don't have a huge to-do list, and my papers are already graded. So, after a leisurely morning (during which I will fold only two loads of laundry), I will take a shower, then go to the grocery/do errands later on today. Let the sun come up. Let it try to push the temps a little higher. Let the early morning slide into day.  I think the work week went okay; the kids enjoyed writing in form this week in creative writing. We all enjoyed listening to Padraig O'Tuama read and discuss a poem by Armen Davoudian . Yes, if you don't follow the Poetry Unbound podcast that is part of On Being, ...

So damned cold. I'm getting tired of it. The steering wheel of my car is just insulting.  That all said, it's Friday. We have an "activity day" (well, half day) at work: classes in the morning, then watching movies in the afternoon. The kids picked the movies (one per grade) as part of the upcoming winter carnival; they are to watch the film, then plan how to remake the trailer as part of the competitions. It's an interesting idea. The Sophomores, for whom I am an advisor, chose Men in Black. Great...we can all be aliens in human disguise for the dress day. Neat. So, I'll be off to work shortly, to work with kids on a/ poem drafts (would you believe they liked writing pantoums?) or b/ literary analysis papers--today's fun: the thesis statement that identifies the complexity in the story. Woot. Have a super day, stay warm, and we'll catch you later. Hugs all around, C

Hey, it's warmer-- just seven below zero today.  Sarcasm for days.  Yesterday in APLit, we read Jack London's "To Build a Fire"-- seemed appropriate. We had a conversation about how setting can become a character. I made the connection between that idea and the second half of the Patriots/Broncos game-- the snow and wind became more than just the physical setting. It became a force of its own, something that took on a life, could have been personified. And so it is in London's short story.  I don't feel bad at all for pushing these kids into a new zone of understanding when it comes to reading fiction -- or anything at all, for that matter. Close reading and deep analysis has gone by the wayside in our contemporary times, and I truly believe that it is a skill that can save lives, whether literally or figuratively. Wait'll they get a load of how we need to really take a hard look at the narrator of a story! They are so used to just dismissing the narrator ...

A quick post today, because a/ I'm running a bit behind and I have to leave time for my poor car to warm up in ten below zero temperatures, and b/ I've got nothing new to say, really.  The news cycle grinds along, leaving dry crumbs of expectations and hopes in its wake.  I have to plan out a book pre-sale full-court press. This is the second time I'm trying to birth a book in times of crisis. I'm starting to feel like one of the Lost Generation, churning out words, but in exile. Except, I'm obviously here, but where did the country go? I wonder if that's how they felt. Or if they generally just wanted to live on the cheap in Europe while shit hit the fan everywhere.  I can't go to Europe.  OK, enough of that line of thinking. Have a good day, friends. Keep your loved ones in your orbit.  C