Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

I got back on the writing-a-draft-a-day bandwagon yesterday; granted, pushing out two drafts in quick succession is not comfortable, and I know that one of the two is dreck, but writing them serves as a type of bookmark for me to come back to, the images and ideas are there for me to revisit and work with/through, if I choose. What's puzzling me is how I've turned to the computer instead of pencil and paper for creation. I used to draft by hand, only, and now I seem to be able to ramble on with ease on the computer. I'm curious when this shift happened, and how, if at all, it has changed or informed my work. I am paranoid that one day this computer will finally crap out, and I'll have lost it all. I should print everything, and probably will, but not this minute. Ink is expensive. Maybe I'll put it all on that fancy new external storage device of mine and print it elsewhere.  I'm not going to be one of the minor poets in this country where anyone wants my "

Well, my goal of writing one poem draft a day for the entire month of April fell off yesterday. That said, I have 28 new drafts (most are just blurts) to work with. I'm pretty satisfied with that. Our monthly writing group met yesterday, just a handful of us, and I tossed two of those drafts to the group for input. They were both well received; that counts as engaging with writing in my mind. I appreciate the discipline of writing one a day, and I'm looking forward to revising and poking and prodding the drafts now. That all said, I also sent out some work this week, and already got two poems accepted. Those were "homeless" poems of mine, things that I've sent out, that have been declined, then have moldered away in a file for a bit. Most poems will find a home, if they are any good at all, I figure; you just have to find the right one. So today, I'm back to work. I'm okay with it; not excited, as I know that this stretch can be a bit muddled. But today --

The last day of "vacation," actually just a regular Sunday, except no papers to grade. I've done all the spring cleaning I planned to do, got a good start on the outdoor chores, and in general, have managed to wade through the week. Except for three nights of stressful/busy dreams, I've gotten a bit of rest that I sorely needed. We even had a small adventure to Ben and Jerry's. All told, a pretty good week. Now we enter a stretch of mild chaos at school: AP testing, field trips, and other general interruptions, punctuated by periods of actual class time. I don't mean to fuss, really I don't, but I feel the pressure of getting things accomplished without having to rearrange the plans over and over and over again. I do my plan book in pencil.  Graduation is June 9th, so we have precious little time to get through the 20th century in American Lit. I try not to lose focus: they will still live productive lives if we don't make it past 1960, but still...but

What a great day yesterday was! Sunshine by the gallons!  We got a lot of outside stuff done: I put up some new solar lights, picked up the trash around the yard (there will be more to do, but I got a good lot of it), and G cleaned up a pile o' stuff. AND he cleared out and moved the beeyard! He has all new hive boxes to put in it once it's all set; we decided to put garden cloth under the edges to keep weeds down, but we have to get a roll. That, and I ordered some new motion-sensor lights to put around it as well. His backyard apiary operation is essentially set up in a 7 foot dog run cage, so it's imperative to keep the weeds to a minimum. It'll be nice-- we cleared up the old spot, and there's room to put in another tree. I'm thinking a dwarf crabapple, which will help with pollination and will be pretty to look at as well. And he wants to put in a few hills of hard-shell squash and/or pumpkins. I wanted to go with more raspberry bushes, but I think the tree

(The cow pictured is a statue...) Our "adventure" yesterday was a good one-- we went to the Ben and Jerry's factory in Waterbury, VT. I've been before, but it was eleven years ago. It was nice, but o, was the wind cold! We went on the short tour, tried mango ice cream (nice, but not my favorite), and hit the gift shop. Then, Meg, Tim, and Holly went up to the playground for a bit and I waited in the car. I needed to not be on my feet for a few, and it was good for them to go do a little family time without me. We went to lunch at one of my favorite diner-like places in Montpelier, the Wayside. Good food, good service, and the prices are still very reasonable. It was pleasant to get out and do something different, for sure, and I'm grateful I was invited along.  That all said, Meg also helped me get my last set of curtains up, too-- hooray, vacation indoor projects completed! Today, assuming it warms up (it's still in the 20s this morning), I'll putter arou

Ahh, "Pink Moon," you've chilled us. Eighteen degrees? gah. I'm so glad that the fruit trees are only starting to leaf out, and we haven't lost another crop. (yet) The sun is out, and it'll warm up, so that's all good by me. Today, I hope to take the day away from chores, at least most of them. As Holly would put it, we are going on an "adventure," and I won't jinx it by talking too much about it. I'll report in tomorrow. That said, tomorrow is Friday, and I've got a hair cut scheduled, and I plan to do some outdoor stuff. The weather dude says it'll be nice-- I see mid-50s and sunny-- so that'll be good. I also plan to go out for dinner, so that will be good, too.  Saturday and Sunday, we'll be somewhat back to schedule. I'll do the house chores, I'll fret about school stuff, and in general, gird myself for the final push. My dad always used to say "don't wish your life away" but I will admit that ha

I did a lot of cleaning and organizing yesterday; I even cleaned the coffee maker with vinegar (the whole house then smelled like pickles for a bit). Two big bags of old curtains went to a local thrift shop that donates money to local organizations. All that's left to do is usual house maintenance, and guess what? It's not happening today. O, and when the new living room curtains come, I'll change those over, but that won't take long. The ones I put up yesterday are pretty, and they let in so much more light! The early part of this morning has been taken up by filling out the forms I got at work the other day: contract signing, open enrollment for med/dental, and a new W4 so I can have them take out a little more towards taxes. We can't seem to balance that mess out; every year, we end up paying a pile o'money to the feds. We just don't have any real deductions beyond the standard one. I don't get it, I don't pretend to get it, and I'll never und

Tuesday of my "vacation" week-- and I have a lot of small spring projects I want to get done, and zero desire to hop to it. Perhaps I'll get some bits and pieces taken care of, but I'm off to a rather slow start. I did order some new living room curtains, as the ones I had up the last couple of summers just don't "bring me joy," as Marie Kondo would say. Speaking of Marie Kondo, I want to sort out and organize my dresser drawers. I have so many socks, and can't seem to ever find a solid colored pair. And the underwear/bra situation needs some real attention. It won't take long, but ugh. These things tend to become a tangled mess over time. Kondo has a great way of folding/stowing tee shirts and so on, even underwear, and I've used that method for a good many years. However, things do get a bit muddled.  The situation with sorting and storing is one I don't really mind, except then I get the guilty conscience. What to do with the ones I do

It's Earth Day, 2024, and I have been wracking my brain what to say. Something along the lines of, "if you mess it up, pick it up" comes to mind. I was hopeful of getting outdoors today to walk around in my back yard and pick up winter-blown stuff, but it's supposed to be a bit blustery, and the process would only have to be repeated again later. That's not to say I won't clean that mess up, but maybe at the end of the week, when it's supposed to be a little warmer and a bit more spring-ish. Earth Day should be every day, anyhow. In the meantime, here's a poem by Matthew Olzmann to ponder, titled " Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years From Now." Fair warning, it's not cheery, but then, neither is the general state of the planet. The second stanza says, It must seem like we sought to leave you nothing but benzene, mercury, the stomachs of seagulls rippled with jet fuel and plastic.  I sure hope that it isn't the case. I'm trying to

Today's Gospel reading highlights the difference between a "hired man" and a true good shepherd (John 10: 11-18). And this much is clear to me: the one who is doing whatever he is doing for a paycheck only is not as invested in the care-giving. This is true in every job that exists; yes, the person who is doing the work for the money will do what is needed, but will he do it with an eye toward stewardship? Probably not. Let's be honest, most, if not all, of us have been in a job where we punched the clock, did the work, and then were just as glad to scoot out when we could. And even in our chosen professions, I think we tend to go through cycles of this feeling of "why bother that much?"-- often, it's because we have been shown repeatedly that we don't matter, or we are disrespected, or we feel a real lack of support. Maybe we are a little resentful of the effort we give when we perceive others not caring as much as we do. Whatever the cause, we slac

Y'know what I miss? Saturday morning cartoons. Today's kids will never know the excitement and anticipation of getting through the school week, and then sitting down with Looney Tunes and a bowl of Sugar Smacks. Streaming services, which followed such things as Cartoon Network, took the joy and anticipation out of it. When I was little, and I mean *little*, my dad and I got up early on Saturdays to watch Rocky and Bullwinkle, Boris Badenov and Natasha, Mr. Peabody and His Boy Sherman , and Fractured Fairytales . Thank goodness those were on early; once my mother got up, it was all hands on deck and cleaning the house. But those precious memories are intact for me, and I swear, my sense of the absurd was formed from the warped stories that were the meat and potatoes of Fractured Fairytales . (Lucky me, I found them on youtube, so we're all set for now.) When I watch these cartoons now, I see that they were brilliant: a true product of the Cold War, and great social commenta

Short note today. In Congress yesterday, Marjorie Taylor Greene showed just what a horse's patoot she is. Among many other ridiculous amendments she proposed, regarding funding to aid Ukraine, she suggested that any member of Congress who voted in the affirmative should be conscripted into the Ukrainian military.  One Democratic House Member countered that idea (and the other stupid suggestions she made) with the proposal that MTG be appointed Putin's special envoy to Congress. Of course, it was meant sarcastically, but what a mess.  This is too much. Not one darn thing of any real use is getting done. And now, they are on recess again. This has gone on far too long; we have a vested interest (economically, geopolitically, morally) in countering the measures of dictators around the globe. It's annoying at the very least that we have people in our own government who would like to see the world crumble--and for what? I never liked kids who intentionally smash other children&#

Y'know, I pray every single day for the safety of the people in places ranging from Ukraine to South Sudan, Gaza/the Middle East to Haiti, and I include all of us here in the US. The world is a pretty dangerous place, with self-serving, vicious people going full-throttle in order to achieve a new "world order" at the expense of the rest of us. I watch people grand-standing in front of cameras, spouting ignorance, hate, and lies --and it makes my heart hurt. We have bigger issues, as a human family, to confront. Many of those issues are human-created, everything from crippling income disparities to climate issues, overpopulation, starvation, and genocide. So much pain. What have we done, as a human community? We owe it to the next several generations --if we intend for them to have a home at all-- to stop the cycle of misery.  I am just one person. There are actual laws that keep me from speaking what I believe in the classroom, but this tiny blog is one place I can vent m

Well, that was fun! I spent a very quick 30 minutes with the entire (!) 8th grade, working with words related to astronomy (aster/astro/sidus/stella roots). We brainstormed a list to work from, and I gave them 5 or so words as well, and they had to use 2 of theirs and 3 of mine, and write a nonrhyming poem of 5-8 lines...in 8 minutes. Then, we had several kiddos eager to share! And some were goofy, and some were absolutely amazing. "I'd like to explore the black hole of my life," was one final line of one lovely poem. Wow. Metaphors. I asked them to share their thoughts at the end; what did they like? And they were bubbling over: they liked doing this because it woke them up, they hadn't done anything like it in a long time, they liked hearing other people's poems, they liked working with nonrhyming poetry... Yeah, we had fun. They will be following through with the poems, or so we left it. I hope they post them in a crazy constellation in the hallway (my suggesti

Here I sit, amid a flurry of posts on my Facebook feed of people going to interesting places on vacation, of the dire situations around the world (how can humanity be so damned cruel to itself? It's boggling), and the legal shenanigans of the former president in the first of his several trials. My life, for better or worse, is relatively mundane. I am grateful for that: for about ten years, things have been entirely fraught, what with family deaths, Covid, and other health and job drama.  I'll take quiet.  Not that it's all that quiet, and I'm sure there's a truckload of shoes to drop (there always is), but I'd much rather the shoes that come my way be of the sort that irritate, not threaten, my mental status quo.  Today, I get to do a guest poet breeze-in/breeze-out in the 8th grade science class. Wish me luck. I haven't done anything with middle schoolers in eons, and they don't know me. That fact alone may be in my favor, but we shall see. Either way,

Why does poetry matter? Yes, that question gets raised again and again. I can tell you, it does--and you don't have to take my word for it.  In my classes, I often have students begin the semester with a written goals for the course statement, and I want them to tell me what they think they want to accomplish, what skills they want to work on, etc. About midway, I have them write me a check-in: what have they learned that they liked, what would they like to do more of, what skills do they feel more confident about, and what skills would they like me to review or help them individually with.  All of my sophomores said they really liked learning about poetry and want to do more of it.  All. Yes, they liked reading Grendel, and they enjoyed the Chaucer project, and even felt more confident about writing and Shakespeare. But every single one thought that the poetry dictation/discussion was something they want to do more of. Ok, twist my arm. I've been told repeatedly by other teac

Note to self: when making a yummy, post-church breakfast sandwich, make two if there's a toddler about. Now, Holly had already eaten two full waffles while I was at church, with juice and a liberal dose of Bluey . I asked her if she wanted some more to eat, and I got an emphatic no, that she'd already eaten her food.  YUP. Whole-grain English muffins, over-easy fried eggs, baked Virginia ham, and sharp American cheese.  I shared. I knew I'd have to. And I was happy to do so! (I'm just grateful she didn't want my coffee, too.)  Church was good; I couldn't go on Easter, and last weekend as well, so it was really nice to be there in person. Lo and behold, though, they snuck a baptism in there on us! It was truly sweet, the baby was adorable--looking all around, no fuss at all--, and the extra only added about ten minutes to the Mass. It was nice to see such a happy family and their guests. That's what it's all about, right? Sharing the joy, sharing space an

The sky is blue, and there are few clouds. I sincerely hope today is less windy and a whole lot less wet. We have had a long stretch of rain/snow/wet, dating all the way back to last summer. The rivers are threatening to flood yet again, and it's a struggle for folks to feel springish.  That all said, it's also Saturday, I got up early, and my chores are already half-finished (it's not even 7am). This is good, since I'm on Holly-watching duty today, until nightfall. We'll figure out something or other to keep us entertained, I am quite sure. It's just a lot easier if I'm not mired in house chores while she wants to play. It's been a long week-- strange, isn't it, when it's technically a "short week" at school-- just four days. But we are all due for a vacation week. Well, I am, anyhow. It's a slog, from the end of February til the end of April, mainly due to weather and cranky students. Not that they have been too cranky, but the se

I posted a general email to the entire faculty, Pre-K to grade 12, at my school. I've offered to help them find a poem to keep or share, in advance of next Thursday's Poem in Your Pocket Day, which is part of the celebration of National Poetry Month. So far, I have heard from one teacher, the middle school science teacher. She's teaching astronomy at the moment, and wanted poems to share that touched on the subject matter. O, watch me go! I sent her several links to poems that I like, the last of which was Ada Limon's poem that will be sent to Europa, as part of NASA's project.  It's titled, " In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa ," and it is absolutely gorgeous. The poem, and her partnership with the NASA program, is part of Limon's US Poet Laureateship. The link here includes a discussion of the project and an audio file of her reading it.  I hope you enjoy it as well.  C

 Ahh, spring. When flowers bloom, it rains all the time, and the noisy vehicles return to their cruising up and down the streets of our little town. It's not that they can't fix their loud, erratic, fart machines--they don't want to. Revving engines, intentionally backfiring, super-loud exhausts... yah, you get the idea. I wouldn't hire them to fix my car, but these home-grown tinker-masters are happy to proclaim that they, too, know their way around a wrench or something. I dunno. I'd rather hear the birds. All that aside, it is spring, and it's nice to open the windows when it's warm enough. And the long-range forecast looks warm, if a little extra damp. I won't mind seeing the last of the decrepit snow piles that hug the bases of trees and hide in the shadows under cars. So, here's a poem for you, one of my favorites. I like it because it reminds me that the season is not just about noisy cars and damp weather. It is also, like the poet says, &quo

Now that it (I think) is finally here, I'm feeling a little overwhelmed with the tasks of spring. I look around, and there's blown trash caught in hedges, roofing material scattered all over the grass from my neighbor's place, all distributed by one of the many high-wind events we've had, and dead grass/weeds to contend with. I'm so happy to see the daffodils finally getting their chance to shine, though. A few crocuses have made an appearance, but not as many as I recall planting-- some critter probably snacked on the bulbs. But the daffies have spread, so that's a bonus. I wonder if any tulips are still there? It's always a surprise to see what managed to survive. But O, the work ahead.  I don't quite know what to do, and I don't want to do it all by myself. I don't have the physical ability I did years ago, but I'll manage. I just won't be able to do it all in one day like I used to. The garden boxes need all fresh soil-- the junk we p

In ancient times, and indeed, even in some circles today, the occasion of an eclipse heralded momentous changes. The party atmosphere, the crowds, the hype and merchandise that surrounded the event yesterday all lent itself to a celebratory feeling. I watched it alone; Holly was asleep (which is fine, as she would not have been easy to convince to keep the cardboard eye protection on), and I sat on my front steps glancing upward and watching the shadows lengthen. The neighbors to either side were whooping it up (they are members of the same extended family), but when the sky grew almost completely dark and the path lights blinked on, there was a moment of quiet. Introspection? Well, for me, anyhow.  The natural world, the movement of the spheres, will continue long after the Age of Man has sputtered to a close. That's a frightening thought, in many ways. I hope it's long after I'm around. Reading the news scroll today, besides the eclipse recap, I worry about a lot of thing

If you have never seen Ladyhawke (1985), starring Rutger Hauer and Michelle Pfeiffer, along with Matthew Broderick, then you need to. It's probably the best under-rated movie involving a curse and a full eclipse. You can rent it on Amazon , and stream it elsewhere. Here's the end scene .  As for me, I'll be home. School has been cancelled. Due to the influx of out-of-staters flocking to our neck of the woods, traffic is awful. Resources are stretched, already. Totally totality, eh?  Likely, I'll put on my cardboard eclipse glasses and head outside to commemorate the spectacle. I bought tee shirts, even. Let's be honest, full eclipses are not all that common, and I'm getting old. Why not enjoy the hype a bit?  Holly and I have plans to make chocolate brownies and sugar cookies in the shapes of moon phases. It should be fun.  Be safe, save your eyeballs, and enjoy the temporary state of darkness.  C

" But they did not believe the women, because their words seemed to them like nonsense." Luke 24:11 What does it take for men to believe in what they've been told or promised? Stretch that, of course, to humankind, not just men, but still, the experience is there, as most women will tell you. On the road to Emmaus, Jesus walks with two apostles; they are cordial, but they do not recognize him. It isn't until when Jesus asks for food (and where was their required hospitality there, eh?), and he breaks bread, that they recognize him through his gestures. O yah... that prophecy, right?  In this age of "fake news" and AI-generated text, misinformation, and "alternative facts," when people feel that their own version of events is valid, regardless of documentary evidence to the contrary, Jesus would not stand a chance. We have major trust issues. And, as it has historically always been the case, women are believed the least, when it comes to a national

A friend of mine and I agreed to write one poem draft a day, every day during April. I've been very stuck, writing-wise. This is helpful; probably few of the drafts will evolve into poems, but at least I'm creating clay to work with. I think that is the hardest part of wanting to write, to be a writer. Other art forms have material to shape, physical material, like stone, metal, paint, fiber, or clay. I wonder, though, if the plight of a musician and that of a choreographer is somewhat the same as that of a writer: where do we start? Words, notes, movement, yes, but you can't just grab up a handful and start shaping.  But yet, having promised to do this challenge, I am managing to find something to write every morning. I don't put it off until later in the day for a couple of reasons. There's always some distraction calling me away from the keys and from my interior monologuing. And there's also that pesky editor in my head, too. I blurt for some lines, then I s

Well, we did not get whomped with new snow, but there's enough of it to clear away, and it's heavy and soggy. The birds were affronted; they ate their way through the bird seed in the feeders twice yesterday. I see the states next to us on both sides did, however, get a load of new snow, and many are without power again. What a mess. April Fool's, indeed.  So, today I'll put my boots on again and head to work. I assume some kids may stay home-- let's be honest, we don't have school on Monday for the eclipse, so why not take a day? I would (well, I probably wouldn't, but maybe I would?). But there's work to be done, and I'll be there to do it with those who are present. I hope my seniors come to school--their three day "trip", followed by a snow day, has given them a nice little break. The essay that is still due today--well, we'll see how many did it. I'm not laying any money on that one.  I've noticed that with the last couple