Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Ahh, vacation. I slept in until 6:36. Wow. That's unheard of. So, I am really slow getting going this morning, and honestly, I DO NOT CARE!  I have coffee. I just ate breakfast. I have a short list of things to do today, but no rush. Eventually, I'll get in the shower and get on with things. I have to take the amended ms of my book to the post, run an errand, but nothing huge. And I will try to get outside to do at least an assessment of what I should be paying attention to (pruning, etc.).  But not yet. Holly is with us, and she's working on a puzzle. I'm sure she'll keep me on my toes today.  But first, coffee.  I don't have any wisdom to share today, except this: enjoy the flexible time in your day. Soak up the sunshine. All the stuff will get done, or not, but wasting the slow, glorious time would be a pity. Take care, hold your loved ones tightly. C

Instead of a nattering blog post today, I thought it better to just share one of the poems I read yesterday at the open mic. Have a lovely day! Carlene Spring Pools Robert Frost These pools that, though in forests, still reflect The total sky almost without defect, And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver, Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone, And yet not out by any brook or river, But up by roots to bring dark foliage on. The trees that have it in their pent-up buds To darken nature and be summer woods -- Let them think twice before they use their powers To blot out and drink up and sweep away These flowery waters and these watery flowers From snow that melted only yesterday.

Today's the day! From 1-3 at NCCR, there will be a community open mic in the radio station performance space, livestreaming for all the world to hear! We will be celebrating community, good words, and the 30th anniversary of National Poetry Month!  I have selected three poems to share, one of which is by Jane Kenyon, titled "Ice Out." Now, here's the funny story about me and standardized tests. I discovered this poem, and Jane Kenyon's work, through proctoring some tenth grade standardized test decades ago. I was not as widely read in poetry as I am (and still am becoming), but I fell in love with the poem. I read the questions, and found them awful. But when it came time to turn in test materials, somehow (!!) that page of the test booklet ended up in my papers. I still have the purloined page in my files at work.  (I have a history with standardized tests-- when I was in elementary school, probably around 4th grade, I got in trouble while taking the IOWA tests. ...

One more day.  We'll see how many kids show up for the AP review today-- it's not mandatory, and most are going elsewhere. I'm even bringing blue-nana bread. Probably I'll end up taking most of it home. I don't know why they don't care about this test enough. Maybe I am too invested. I never wanted to do AP stuff, but I agreed to, and I'm up to my freakin' eyeballs in it. Literally. I have eyestrain that would fell a Cyclops. That said, we have a week off from school next week. I have a few things I want to do, a few things I should do, and heaven help me, I want to NOT think about school stuff except for the small collection of essays I will slog through. And I suspect it'll be a slog-- same group of kids, same ennui.  The roses need some attention. I have a slim volume of reflections by Ada Limon to read and review. And there's G's closet. I'm not sure much else will get done, or even should be done, but there's the rough plan. Toda...

The morning temps have been inching their way up over the last few days; today, it was 32. Spitting rain, but 32, nonetheless. The backyard is glowing green-- it always amazes me how vibrant the first grass is. The fruit trees are budding small leaves. The lilacs are leafing out. And of course, my eyes itch and I am snuffly, but it's okay. Spring is here. Spring means new life, right? Except, it's also the time of year-- May, specifically-- that we've buried our parents. It's a bit sobering, even though some time has passed.  On the other hand, it's still April, and Saturday is going to be fun, I hope. From 1-3 at North Country Community Radio, there is an open mic for poetry-- ending National Poetry Month with a bang. If you are local, come join us! Favorite poems and/or your own are more than welcome. It will be broadcast live, too, so if you are not around, tune in-- you can l ivestream it on the internet. Two more school days. Amen. I need a break in the worst ...

April is an expensive month, most years. This one, more so. Taxes--ouch. Windshield getting replaced next Tuesday-- 528.00 of ouch. New all-season tires coming Friday-- 484.00-- ouch again. And the sewer bill is the low-ball at 418.00.  Barftastic. When I hear the feds yap about how "gas prices are not that bad" they ought to pump some. Our gas bill (we use a credit card each month, then pay it off), capped out at $493.00 this month.  There's something incredibly broken if the feds think that prices are going down. That we are all willing to feel a "pinch" for the "greater good" of blowing up other countries. And which is it? Are they going down or a mandatory sacrifice? Upside down world.  Prices on everything are higher; costs of shipping things alone are driving that bus. I'm glad I have bought ahead on some things --would you believe, extra summer sandals and a second set of sneakers? I got those a while ago, knowing that the prices of imported...