Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Is the Sunday at the end of a vacation week still vacation? Or is it the start of the new week, launching you into the usualness of daily routine? Either way, mine is a rainy/cloudy/damp one, after a night of rain and wind. After church, I'll make breakfast, then wade into the bread-making/ cookie-creating that is on my personal to-do list. I'll clean bathrooms, too-- why not start the new week fresh?  We have a topsy-turvy week ahead at school-- a fatal car crash re-enactment scheduled for Wednesday morning, to be followed the next full day with the mock funeral and trial. I'm uneasy about all of this, and not just because I need the class time with my seniors. I am uncomfortable with seeing even a re-enactment of dead students. I know that it is to educate through shock-- but as one of the responsible adults who are along for this particular experience, I don't like it. I am really not happy about it, and I suspect it'll really color my week. Hell, it already is c...

Well, that "vacation" week went by in a series of pretty rainy and dreary weather days. Except yesterday. That was one glorious day! I even got a little sun-- not enough to call it a burn, but let's say pinkish. I needed the "vitamin D therapy" even more than I knew.  I've postponed the chores I wanted to do-- the coming week looks chilly and wet yet again, so the winter curtains will stay up  one more week. The hostas in the back garden are not up yet, so they can't be moved. And with so much rain in the forecast, I'm not putting new soil in my raised beds yet-- I don't want the nutrients to wash away and just grow the weeds and grass around them. And the roses are just now getting going, so that bit will have to wait a little as well.  So be it. Next weekend, though, the to-do list will have to be done. I'm a master procrastinator about some things, so I don't mind all that much. G gave the forsythias a good trim yesterday, though, so t...

 It is a beautiful spring day (finally)-- it did start out at 30 degrees, but the sun's out! Here's a poem by Robert Frost to celebrate! A Prayer in Spring Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees. And make us happy in the darting bird That suddenly above the bees is heard, The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill, And off a blossom in mid air stands still. For this is love and nothing else is love, The which it is reserved for God above To sanctify to what far ends He will, But which it only needs that we fulfil.

Today is Poem in Your Pocket Day, part of the celebration of National Poetry Month! In generations past, back in the day when students were required to memorize poems (somewhere around my grandmother's childhood), adults used to have a few poems committed to memory--they knew them "by heart." I'm pretty sure few people today, except maybe those of us who love poetry, have any poems or even parts of poems "by heart." That's pretty sad, really. Why wouldn't we want rich words embedded deep in our selves, to be used for joy or comfort, or to keep confusion at bay?  Maybe one things we can do is keep a copy of a poem in our wallets, if we feel that our brains are just too full of "stuff" to add one more thing? Though it seems like a good decluttering of our mind-space might be in order. Just a point to ponder. At any rate, people are always asking me what my favorite poem is, and I have no answer to give. It depends on my mood. Same for "f...

Yesterday, when I read the news that singer and activist Harry Belafonte had died, I cried. I mean full-on, weeping. I never met him. So why was I crying?  Every time I hear of the passing of a singer or actor artist or novelist that my dad and I shared an interest in, I want to call him. I always called him or stopped in to talk about such things. My dad taught me just about everything I know about folk music, about musicians, and, in a lot of ways, social activism. It'll be one year since Dad died next week, and I find myself blindsided by accidental triggers often.  You know those ads for senior living communities? Or the ones that push visiting nursing care? The myriad media blitzes about taking care of one's elders? Yes, those. All of them have, to me, a hint that we can all do a whole lot better for our aging parents, even if we've done all we possibly can, especially if the resources they tout are not available for all of us. I know, because I tried.  Lawyers' ad...

It's really obvious that it's not just two adults with relatively sober (boring?!) hobbies live here. The transformation is now complete. Or at least, I think it is?  There is an aggressively pink pop-up castle in my front room. This is the room with the white (used to be?) carpet, the watercolor paintings, the antique bookcase, and my writing desk. First, there was a changing table with a few diapers and wipes for the quick change. Well, the then-infant is now a fully mobile toddler, so that piece of furniture is now at someone else's home. (We like to share.) We moved the futon into the front room as a landing zone/seating area. Fine. It fits nicely. Then, we needed a toy chest. I got a discreet grey one that fits under a table. Next, I got a new bookcase and moved some of mine to the living room, so Holly could have her own bookcase in the front room. There's also a squishy unicorn chair, a suitcase for her extra clothes, and now... the pink castle. The tea set she g...

After spending a really foggy-brained day yesterday (lack of sleep plus ready-for-vaca exhaustion), I slept really well last night. Not an uninterrupted sleep, but I went back to sleep after each minor waking. That said, we have another chilly and drizzly day ahead, and I'm actually kind of excited about that. I have some writing to work on, and some house chores I want to dig into. And a book to read! Yesterday, I moved all of our compact discs out of the front room and into the main living room, nearer to the cd player. I'm still pondering another small moving-of-stuff; this is not unusual for me, though. I get bored looking at the same ol' view from my chair. And Holly is obsessed with unloading the dvd rack-- it might find a new, less accessible home.  That said, it's vacation time. I may still be up early, and I may have house chores to work through, but I'll do what I want, when I want, for the most part. And I have coffee. And slippers and a bathrobe. I will ...

A huge, gusty rain storm swept us up into its fervor during the night; 2:30 a.m., and I was up, pacing from window to window, hoping that the trees, the deck furniture, and all else would still be there in the daylight. My blue and white star-lights were juggling crazily with each gust, but they stay lit, like a weird carnival in the back yard.  I never got back to sleep. The creaking and rattling of this old house kept me awake, and the rushing swaths of hard rain hitting windows made me a little nervous. It's pretty clear that this old home, built approximately 1905, has seen a lot of weather. But, like with people, a lot of weathering can wear a body down.  That all said, I got up at 5:30 because I was not asleep anyhow. I'm stumbling through the morning, bleary and tired, but up anyhow. The rain and wind have settled into "soft rains," the kind that the leafing fruit trees desperately need. Miraculously, not even the pillows on the adirondack chairs I set out in t...

Day one of vacation (well, technically, it's the weekend before, but y'know)-- I did not sleep in. I have had two cups of coffee in my bathrobe. I have a full day planned, part chores, part something I want to do. That something is a 90 minute zoomer with the poet Richard Blanco for a writing workshop-- I'm so happy to do that today! Probably I'll write about it tomorrow. The weather looks like it will be nice, so I might get outside and poke around a little at some point.  The weather for tomorrow through Monday looks dismal--good reading weather. I will *not* doom-scroll my way through this week. I will *not* pack the week with cleaning projects (except those curtains). Enjoy your day! C

I'm amused by the national trend towards "staycations." In my book, that means I'm dead-ass broke, and can't go anywhere. Since that is my usual state of being, I'm used to it. I usually pack my down time with chores and projects to accomplish, but I think that this coming week is going to be different by design. Yes, I'd willingly go on a "real" vacation, but I have no means, no travel companion available, and to be honest, no idea where I'd go. It's been quite a while since we've taken an overnight trip-- the last time I was in a hotel (of sorts) was when Meg and I went to see Pentatonix in Gilford, and that was the end of August, 2019. G and I have not been out of town overnight for almost 7 years. Like I said, it's been a while. So, this week, weather depending, I plan to dive into my pile of books. I have one project or maybe two I want to get to: change the curtains to lighter ones, and fill up the raised beds with some new ...

I am eternally puzzled by the intractability of so many people. Yes, I'm stubborn, at least on occasion, but I hope that I'm also able to see what benefits the "greater good."  I've lost count (again) at the number of senseless and brutal use of guns in our society. I don't understand the willful stupidity of holding the economy (national and global) hostage over bills already incurred (the debt ceiling mess). I cannot fathom the depth of hurtful behavior and comments that some people direct at those who are struggling daily to find a space for themselves in the world.  Historically, none of this is particularly news. Because we can "know" (read: be force-fed) the lurid and prurient details of every single thing going on, there is a blanket (a grey, itchy, wet one) that suffocates our ability to feel happy about almost everything and anything. We have huge crises to contend with as a human community, but yet the people who are in a position to effect...

We have all had the experience of doing our very best, and still not having the support of the people around us. It's probably not even intentional; sometimes, it just turns out that way. Such is the case for Red Sox pitcher Chris Sale. He's battled back from multiple injuries and set-backs in his recovery, and last night, for his start, he was pretty darn vintage Sale: 11K before the relievers --" relievers "-- came in to pretty much give the game away. That said, while the rest of the team was hitting, they couldn't seem to close the deal. They did, at one point, have bases loaded (often referred to "ducks on the pond"), and yes, there were two live ducks on the field-- only the real ducks got anywhere in that inning. They left. I did, too, around 10 pm, top of the 10th, tied game. I went up to bed. I turned on the radio to listen to the game, and found that in the minute or so it took me to head up the stairs, the Sox had managed to dump it again --do...

Cool and drizzly start to the day. The daffies glow in this sort of weather.  I'm glad for hot coffee, the pellet stove, and a slightly slower start to the morning-- yes, I have to go to work, but I got my chores done yesterday, and I'm in no rush. I need to slow down a little, and I think today's a great day to start. I wonder why, at least in my upbringing, working yourself into a tizzy of exhaustion and stress is supposed to be the goal. There's no damned prize for self-depletion. I have a never-ending (I was going to say, inexhaustible) to-do list, but y'know, if it doesn't get done, the world will spin anyhow.  It's a little too soon for the yard work, regardless of the recent short stretch of summery weather. Today is much more April-ish; 50s, maybe 60's, rainy, and that is just what the flowers, plants, and I need. School is getting to that o-so-chaotic point in the year; Seniors are forgetful and a bit snippy due to their own weight of stress, an...

Things that make me happy: Holly with the zoomies, giggling Hot coffee Hearing peepers through open windows Hearing robins warbling Bright yellow daffodils Giant purple crocuses The bleeding heart made it The rhubarb is up and leafing Sitting on the porch with G at twilight, watching the lights in the trees wink on, one by one Toast with real butter Clean kitchen counters Freshly washed and folded towels A new book Daisies A good baseball game Silence in the sunlight

Peepers!! Finally!! I love the sound of peepers in the late evening, almost as much as I love the treble song of the birds in the early morning. I'm grateful for the chance to sleep with the window open, and to have the incessant hum of the humidifier silenced for the season. I'm not one who needs a background noise to sleep, not an artificial one, anyhow. But I do so love to hear the little night noises of the outside world. I feel like I have a place in the cycle of things. That said, I did not sleep well last night, not once my busy brain kicked in with yet another apocalyptic dream. A few days ago, we had an all-staff training about active shooters and our comprehensive safety/defense plans at school; how we, both as a team and as individuals, must be prepared to protect our students and ourselves. No great surprise, then, that my brain kicked up a stressful scenario for my dream-sleep "entertainment." This stress-dream was punctuated with a lot of broken shards o...

  Audio file here. Sumer is i-cumin in BY ANONYMOUS Sing, cuccu, nu. Sing, cuccu. Sing, cuccu. Sing, cuccu, nu. Sumer is i-cumin in— Lhude sing, cuccu! Groweth sed and bloweth med And springth the wude nu. Sing, cuccu! Awe bleteth after lomb, Lhouth after calve cu, Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth— Murie sing, cuccu! Cuccu, cuccu, Wel singes thu, cuccu. Ne swik thu naver nu! Notes: a 14th century English round

No peepers yet. But oh, the birds-- it was delightful to sleep with the bedroom window open last night. It's "unseasonably warm" right now, and I'm taking full advantage of it. Today is supposed to be warm and sunny as well, so the windows will be open, and the dust will be very evident.  Spring cleaning? nah...not yet. I'm not that extravagantly hopeful; the long-range forecast is looking like 50s and rainy next week. Of course, that could change, but April is a tease. Still, today is lovely. Tomorrow might be, too. We need to embrace the nicer weather when we get it--after all, this is New England, climate change is a real thing, and yes...  today is the only day I am in. Have a good one, C

Yesterday, I went to my first softball game of the season. It was chilly, the sky was overcast, and the kids struggled--but it was outside, a game I appreciate, and I got to watch my own kid in her role as assistant coach. She's been helping out for quite a few years now, using the hard-earned skills she has as a player and as a credentialed coach. Now that things in her schedule are aligning a bit better, she has been there for the kids just about every day, and it shows. They like her, the parents like her, the head coach likes her, and she is able to share her love of the game-- both its joys and the hard work it takes-- and that matters. And it does matter. Kids need trusted adults who share their love of what they do, whether it's teachers, a mentor, a boss, or a coach (among many other roles). The news is full of how, partly due to the pandemic, and, I believe, partly due to the artificial isolation caused by digital media/cellphones, kids have very fragile mental health...

Fuchsia sunrise this morning-- beautiful, but likely a few showers that might pass through. It's okay; it's spring. After a super wet and miserable March, April has been sailing along pretty well. My allergies are in full force, but that's temporary.  Daffies are blooming! And we are predicted to have high 70s by Friday, with a showery weekend. That pretty much tells me that I might not get outside to prune and rake and so on this weekend, but we'll see. It suddenly occurred to me the other day that I have a school vacation in just a week and a half. Amen to that.  I'll probably spend the week doing chores, but I hope, outdoor ones. And I might even take down the winter curtains and put away the draft blockers in all of the windows. And open the windows for hours on end.  I do NOT want to spend that week doing boring stuff. The last school vacation, I had oral surgery. I felt a little cheated out of some rest time, so this go 'round, I am going to try to un-sche...

Why do we so often base our own sense of worth in the opinions of other people? A few days ago, I got a pro forma rejection from a small journal that stated that my work "might be ready for publication by fall" and that I should submit again sometime. What? Is it going to ripen? Gah. The same day, I received the news that an anthology in which I have two poems was ready to order. So I did. And another one was readying their publication date. So...I suspect that I've ripened at least a little. Yesterday, I had my scheduled observation by the college professor who is overseeing my dual credit course for a local community college. This person is my new "handler," as the former one and I could not work together at all. (I don't do well with personal attacks.) She informed me that she'd received an email that warned her that I was "difficult"-- me? hm.  I'm not taking ownership of that one. Nope.  At the end of each day, if the buildings are sta...

Yesterday, we hid a few chocolate-filled Easter eggs around the back yard for our grand-daughter to find. Okay, Papa hid them-- he had fun, I think. I filled them ahead of time. It's really a lot of fun doing this grandparent thing! While we were outside, I surveyed the state of things after winter-- the raspberries appear to have spread (good), the strawberries are showing new growth already (also good), and the rhubarb is up and sending out little leaves already (and that's good, too). The roses are off to a slow start, and there's likely a ton of breakage and die-back; I'll give them a week or two to show me where there's still some life, and I'll prune the rest. I always look like I lost a fight with a truly annoyed cat when I do that chore, so I don't mind waiting a little.  No sign of life from the asparagus yet, but the snow and ice pack has only just melted. These things take a little time. The daffies are ready to bloom, the lilacs are budding out w...

Blessings of Easter-tide to you and yours. I wrote this poem three years ago, and it still holds true in a lot of ways. It was first published by Global Poemic , in slightly different form. Pandemic Easter, 2020   Rough from so many ritualistic washings, twenty seconds each time,                         "I will wash my hands in innocency, so will I compass thine altar, O Lord…" my ripping, winter-soft hands grasp and claw at dead things, intent on scratching some small space for beauty. Brittle leaves,                         “Take off the grave clothes…” splintered grass, wind-blown paper and snow-faded candy wrappers give way. Shifting raised forms into position feels like faith. I find daffodils.  

Easter Vigil is usually observed at night, and it's a powerful, contemplative service. The readings recount stories from the life of Jesus; it's a lot like any other gathering to remember a loved one who has passed. For me, though, the whole day before Easter trends toward introspection. Maybe it's the tone set by Good Friday, with the solemn acknowledgment of all that it entails. The fulfillment of the prophecy that requires and end with death and yet longs for life is a sorrowful occasion.  The symbolism is deep and rich, and many metaphors can be made: planting of seeds, the life cycle, the seasons, the ending of a day and turning again to dawn... for those of us who follow the faith tradition, it is the keystone of what we believe.  Here's another poem of mine, one that recounts my childhood confusion and my adult understanding --or lack of full understanding. It appeared in The Henniker Review in a slightly different form. I'm hoping today is a quiet one for yo...

I've always been interested in the lives of the people living on the margins of paradigm-shifting events. Here's a poem of mine, first published by Sojourn, a journal at UT-Dallas. It was the one of my very first poems that were accepted for publication.  That Friday At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. --Matthew 27: 51-52   And when the sky split, and rocks spewed forth with the dead, did the woman hauling water from the well push back her hair and wonder? Or did she continue her work,   not quite sure what the omens told, knowing only that there was dinner to get, children to bathe, and a husband who was late getting home from an execution across town.

Holy Thursday. A call to both remembrance and to service for and with others.  Here's a poem by George Herbert (1593-1633): THE AGONY Philosophers have measured mountains, Fathom’d the depths of seas, of states, and kings, Walk’d with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains But there are two vast, spacious things, The which to measure it doth more behove: Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love. Who would know Sin, let him repair Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see A man, so wrung with pains, that all his hair, His skin, his garments, bloody be. Sin is that Press and Vice, which forceth pain To hunt his cruel food through every vein. Who knows not Love, let him assay, And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike Did set again abroach; then let him say If ever he did taste the like. Love is that liquor sweet and most divine, Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine. ​

I've been mulling over whether I need or want to comment on the sad circus that is/was Trump Indictment Day. While I'm not surprised at the number of felony counts, I am also fully aware that this mess is far from over, far from decided, and, after I read the actual paperwork (the full indictment and the official statement), I suspect most people won't care by the time this case goes to court to be tried. It's not sensational; it's all about illegal and really shady "business" practices, the stuff of anti-insomnia measures. Yet, isn't that how Al Capone got brought down? Meticulous investigation and prosecution for shady business dealings?  The "After-Party" speech given by 45 was a blustery, lie-filled rant of, essentially, "poor me." It makes me sick to think that the Professional Whiner is still dominating the news cycle and is seeking a second term in office. He is petulant. We do not need tiresome, selfish people in government....

Sometimes I wonder about deadlines.  I usually meet any that are externally imposed upon me, and often I get things done well in advance. It's my nature, or maybe my upbringing, that makes me compliant to rules. That said, the ones I impose upon myself are mysteriously malleable. All Hail to the White Board Marker! The Pencil Eraser! The "it's not that important..." mindset is devious.  I get things done. I get things done that other people need. But I am really, really good at postponing things that matter(-ish) to me. I have a poetry manuscript that has notes all over it, but I have not yet begun the book review that is part opinion as reader and part analysis and critique. I guess my prose-muse is napping.  Like, Aurora napping. I will get it done, but the folder with the marked pages is staring at me, a wordy reproach.  Telling myself that I need to read it through again with "fresh eyes" has been my excuse, and it's pretty valid, but yet I keep eras...

Yesterday was Palm Sunday, and in the homily, our parish priest focused on the idea of sacrifice as part of this last week of Lent. He suggested that we deepen our sacrifice, in order to focus on the core meaning of these last days. While I agree in general with what he was saying, I have to admit I am not as inclined to give up things as I am to focus on redirecting effort. Yes, we can turn off the TV or limit our cell phone time-wasting, as he suggested. But I don't see how that is going to honor the life of Jesus. I see where it might provide a setting of fewer external distractions, and in that sense, the suggestions are valid. But I think it would be even better if we focused on doing , instead of not doing. Giving to the local food pantry, donating time to help someone in need, choosing to work for social change that will benefit more people... those types of things are doing something for others that honors the implied direction in Matthew, when Jesus says, “‘Truly, I say to...

" Since 1967, on or around Hans Christian Andersen's birthday, 2 April, International Children's Book Day (ICBD) is celebrated to inspire a love of reading and to call attention to children's books." How wonderful! I didn't realize that April 2nd is the day to celebrate children's books, but I did spend a part of yesterday working on a new space for my grand-daughter's books. She has a huge personal library at her house, but the collection here is growing fast as well. I have many, many books in storage upstairs that she will grow into, but for now, we have simple board books and other stories that catch her attention right where she can reach them.  I'm so glad and grateful that she loves books and reading with us! Too many kids tell me that there are no books in their homes, that they hate reading, that their families "have better things to do."  What can be more important than feeding a child's mind and imagination, after the life-...

I can't think of a single thing to write about that isn't a sort of cruel joke on the American people. That said, let's take a little break from the news, and enjoy this day as best we can. Next week's news cycle promises to be toxic and lurid. The biggest "joke" on us: snow last night, pouring rain today. Mother Nature has a slightly acidic sense of humor! No Easter Egg Hunt for us, I'm afraid. That's okay, the Easter Bunny will make one happen on Easter Day. Let's ignore the news. Enjoy something fun and silly.  C