Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Why do I care so much about having a book with real covers with my name on it? Is is a report card? Validation? Ego? I have a chapbook that is supposed to be released in February of 2025; the caveat is, there is a pre-sale requirement. If I/we don't sell at least 60 books ahead of printing, it likely will not exist. I'll be announcing that in the fall, so stay tuned. But that hurts a little. I have to hustle a book, sight unseen, or it won't ever see the light of day. I understand the publisher's point of view; it costs money to print, and let's be honest, poetry is not going to jump off the shelves, but if I can't get folks excited about buying ahead of it being in physical form, then it will die unseen. Sigh. It's a worry for another day. As I understand it, the kick-off for the push to sell books will be in October, so maybe I can figure out how to launch it. They are pretty good with promotional materials, and they will be blasting it out on social medi

I've avoided talking too closely about politics for a while now, but I have some thoughts.  I'm sure we all have thoughts.  Do I wish we had a younger, more TV-charismatic Democrat running? Sure. But that's not the point. There are a lot of talented, intelligent people who are rising through the ranks, but they have not yet been tapped to represent the party at the highest levels. Yet.   That said, and in the wake of the non-debate (bluster, blather, bold-faced lies), I'd like to remind folks --and myself-- that the person who occupies the Oval Office is really not as important as the people who are elected to Congress or the ones who are selected to be in the Cabinet.  We are judged by the people we surround ourselves with. That is a fact, whether it is fair or not, but I think it's the whole damned point. We saw what kind of bootlicking sycophants, ruffians, and out-and-out treasonous criminals Trump surrounded (and still does) himself with. He has already claimed

I did not watch the farcical "debate," because I treasure my mental health. That said, I have read some summaries and opinions, and it seems that, once again, intelligence and reasoned responses and information was steamrolled by bullshit, bluster, and lies. I, for one, don't give a damn whether someone can hit a golf ball very far; it's not a qualification for the presidency. That all said, we woke up to a chilly 40 degrees, but it's sunny, so I think today's weather will be decent enough, if cool. I dunno why I default to discussing the weather, but I suppose it's incontrovertible.  G and I are Holly-watching all day today (we've had her half-days) while Meg is at work and Tim has an appointment. She keeps us busy, grounded, and amused. It's for her sake that I hope we survive the political crisis that is blanketing our nation and the world. Me? I'll muddle through, but I don't want to leave this plane of existence without at least trying

It's cooler, and damp this morning. Well, the damp is relatively nothing new, but the last couple of days have had some gloriously sunny hours. I'm glad for it: getting Holly into the pool is a welcome diversion for both of us, and I sleep better having had some outdoor time in which I'm totally focused on floating and helping her learn to swim. I can't be perseverating about much else when I'm on pool time, and that is a blessing.  But today looks like a day to do some necessary errands and small house chores. That, too, is a good thing, as the bathroom gets a lot more use since G is still at home with his foot issue. Normally, summer is a time when the house stays pretty clean, if it's just me at home. Not so this year: we have increased foot traffic (no pun intended), and sweeping, vacuuming, bathroom cleaning, etc. is ongoing. And laundry. For heaven's sake, the laundry. Nothing dries overnight, so damp towels and clothing need to be washed frequently. I

Yesterday was a nice day. And I hope today will be, as well. Holly decided to trust her swim floaties and she is well on her way to swimming independently! What's amusing and endearing is the way she self-coaches: "Ok, Holly, you can do this!" and "C'mon, Holly, glide!"  I don't think there's anything more adorable than that. And as ultimately useful: we should all learn to trust ourselves, not depend on others, to achieve our goals, right? And she was so proud! After we came in, she was crowing to Papa, "I was a brave kid!" And y'know what? She was. And is.  As spicy as she is sometimes, I would much rather she be self-determined than a doormat. It'll stand her in good stead as she navigates the world, especially if the idiots who are proclaiming "Project 2025" win in the upcoming election. The list of "NOs" include no access to appropriate and necessary health care and health-care choices, no meaningful educati

My need to do things is running hard up against my desire to be slothful. I don't know if it's a response to too much going on, too much to do, or if I'm just that dang tired-- but lately, my balance is off. Well, what do I mean, lately ? It's off a lot. And I'm going to actively work on establishing balance.  One thing I truly have to do is determine what needs to be done versus what I'd like to see accomplished-- and choose wisely. I need to make sure there's time to mentally rest, physically rest, and also time to be busy and productive on the practical level. I feel like a drop of water on a hot griddle.  I want to read. And write. And sit in the sun-- maybe today? We'll see. The weather has not cooperated in days.  It has been a very long time since I've been able to set my own pace, and, given the way this summer's gone a little sideways, I need to stop reacting, and be a lot more proactive. Proactive in that I will make some "me"

Yesterday was truly lovely: church was good, G and I decided on an impromptu brunch out (we ended up going all the way to Woodsville to a little family restaurant called Shiloh's--our first visit there--and it was good), I got a chance to pick a bunch of strawberries and the first cherries in between rain showers, and all in all, it was restful and pleasant. Holly and I made brownies, so we did have the brownie sundaes for a special dessert. We also managed by the grace of God to miss the damaging weather that obliterated a whole lot of Vermont. Amen to that. I have a few things on my to-do list, such as re-setting up the deck furniture and cleaning/chem balancing the pool. Tomorrow's supposed to be in the 80s, so I want things ready to go for Holly. Over the next two weeks, we'll be graced with her presence a whole lot, as Meg is picking up a raft of extra shifts. We've worked out a schedule that will, I hope, provide stability and balance for the Toddler in Residence,

Today is my birthday. It's always been a little complicated; only one time did classmates come to a birthday party (school being out, no one was usually around). On my 11th birthday, two classmates did come, and my mother thought it a great idea to present me with my first razor in front of them. Like, here, kid, you are a gorilla. Go shave. (Mortified doesn't even come close.) Sigh. Other birthdays have been really good: G gave me my engagement ring on my 19th birthday (he'd asked me to marry him six months earlier, but we were broke college kids, so I was happy to wait). My 30th birthday was pretty decent; we had a party, friends came, and we played tipsy volleyball in the rain. Most of the rest of my birthdays have been very low key or hardly registering a blip on the turning of the sun radar. My birthday in 2021 was upsetting; that was the first time I really knew my dad had vascular dementia. He never forgot my birthday, but that year, he did. And when I reminded him,

I had a wide-ranging conversation with G this morning about the state of education. What triggered it is a very insightful guest commentary by Mark Tucker, the superintendent of schools in Vermont's CCSU, the area near us that includes where we grew up in and around Danville. His article addressed a lot of the misconceptions about how education works and needs to happen in 2024; we are not in the same model nor can we be that was the norm fifty years ago. He explained that schools have to be different; the responsibilities are far more than they were then, and include everything society puts on them, including mental health. And those expectations are there, but yet when the cost is discussed, the public pivots to a punitive measure: improve, or funding is cut. Mental health costs alone in his district --and likely across the state-- account for about 11% of the budget, and there is no direct source of funding for this other than the overall education budget. His district is very

Looks like a drizzly day today--which, to be honest, is not a terrible thing. I have some chores to do, some errands to complete, and I have a small cold, so a quiet and productive day looks good to me. That all said, likely all of that will be upended, mostly in the best ways. The Toddler in Residence has her own plans. Usually, they are a lot more fun than mine. I'm enjoying not having to rush, to get things done on a tight schedule. Tomorrow, I might rant on about the mandated posting of the Decalogue in LA schools, but not today. I don't feel like getting all that wound up about anything much. And I have to get my brain around it all first. That, and the unholy alliance between Putin's Russia and N. Korea- there's just so much evil afoot, and I'm sad and worried about it. I can't make cogent thoughts yet. I think I'll get another cup of coffee. Take care, C

I took yesterday as a "day off" (not to be confused with summer break from school). The pool beckoned, and I had no problem at all answering its invitation. What a hot day! Meg, Holly, and I lounged in the pool for about two hours. Then, a humdinger of a boomah came through, Holly took a solid nap, and when she woke up, the world was pretty darn soggy. And a little cooler, though that is a temporary thing. Today is predicted to be more humid and about as hot. We may or may not get back in the pool; t-storms are predicted on and off, so we'll have to play it safe.  While Holly was napping, Meg went to the store, and among the whatevers she needed, she also picked up (and then inflated) a ridiculously funny, super-large pool float: a super-fly flamingo. I suspect that it will fill up most of the pool when it is in there, but Holly will have fun. She was making great strides towards swimming yesterday, too-- she kept repeating, "I'm doing my best. It just makes me a

 Not sorry at all for the late post. It's still morning, right? It's a glorious, soon-to-be-hot summer day already. I came downstairs after a night of really busy, distressing dreams and shifted my thinking, thanks to a serendipitous circumstance. G was already out on the deck with coffee, listening to the birds and the humming of various bees in the roses. It was already low-70s at 6:30 am, and a beautiful. blue sky opened up over us.  We had coffee, I read the paper, and then did and finished the crossword puzzle. A slow start is a good one, especially when the day promises to get really hot. Meg and Holly wandered over, and we had an impromptu breakfast. Holly, of course, had to take some play-breaks: the swing-set, the beach ball, the flowers-- so much to see and do. She's itching to get in the pool, but we'll wait 'til midday, just so the water is warm enough. It'll be our first foray of the season.  I don't plan on doing much of anything today. I have

Ahhh, summer. Still trying to get a rhythm going because: I've been staying up too late, doing a bunch of house and yard chores, and hoping to get in the pool (assuming the water has warmed up a bit).  Today, our favorite repairman is coming to deal with the dryer. Still not sure what is up with the dishwasher (they have more tests for us to try before they'll actually send a person). And G is headed to the doctor to have his foot looked at again. He's been home for two weeks today. We are hopeful it's healing.  Holly has a summer cold (poor bean), but maybe we can distract/entertain her a bit. She wants to go swimming, so that's a factor-- c'mon, sunshine! Otherwise, it's a never-ending cycle of "but why?"  I hope to get my upstairs vacuumed today, after the repairman leaves. That's my "big chore" for today--if it is going to be in the 90s, that will be enough.  If the bees swarm again, I dunno if we can even deal-- three times in on

Yesterday was Fathers' Day, and it was a pretty decent day, all told. The news feed on my Facebook was making me sad, though. So many photos of folks with their fathers, some still with us and others who have gone on before. I don't have a lot of photos of my dad, and that makes me sad. The posts that have prayers for "dads in heaven" make me sad. The posts sharing memories or plans with dads make me sad. I miss him. My father and I were very close when I was quite young, but too many times, his attention was redirected by my mother. Later on, while I was growing up, he was my principle defender, often calling out my mother for her over-the-top reactions to things I'd said or done, or quietly slipping me a little money when I needed it. As an adult, when I'd go to visit, my mother would insert herself into conversations, and I wouldn't get a lot of time to talk to my dad, just us. Same if I phoned with a joke or a book or music recommendation. I don't

Some days are just so busy and oddly fraught, y'know?  Yesterday included having friends come help mow and set up the pool (those are among the good things), and also included the dryer fritzing, the pool filter gushing water, a myriad of small annoyances, and the neighbor's chicken coop being a fully-involved structure fire that ended badly for them (and the 53 meat bird pullets).  At the end of the day, once the pool was up and not leaking, the pump was functional, and the dryer repair scheduled, it all sorted out. The fire department did a great job putting out the blaze, but the smoke was pretty awful, no lie. Today, I'm sore and tired and my lungs are gargly. I need a day of some rest.  It's Fathers' Day, and that brings me to the point: G wants pancakes and sausage for breakfast. I will gladly comply, especially since I'm not rushing out the door to get to in-person church. I'm defrosting a large London Broil steak for dinner, too-- we'll put that

Newtown (CT) graduates mourn the loss of their 20 missing classmates while the Supreme Court vacates the ban on bump stocks. This should have been the headline. While I know that the two issues are not actually linked, I can't help but be aware of the optics of it. And no one, NO ONE, needs to modify a weapon so that it fires 400-800 rounds per minute. Gun control vs. unrestricted gun ownership/ "my righttts "/ please read the entire Second Amendment/ fully invest in mental health -- the discussion (rant?) rages on. And children are dying every single day in America. As of 2020, gun violence became the number one cause of death for children in the United States, surpassing vehicle accidents.  Not disease, not drowning in a pool, not drinking household cleaners, not falling out of trees. Guns . My heart hurts every single time I hear of these events-- and now, they are so common-place, they hardly register a mention in the news. That should grieve every one of us. We canno

This poem speaks to me in deeper and deeper ways. "Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold" and "The best lack all conviction, while the worst / Are full of passionate intensity." Did Yeats know what our future would look like? I mean, he saw a lot of upheaval himself, to be sure. And here we go again, it seems. I'm not quite convinced we are primed for a "second coming," but the theory of the fourth turning as posited by Strauss and Howe   makes a lot of sense to me, too. I sense a "perilous gate" as they define it; there will be a paradigm shift, and only those who can hang on, who have faith and resiliency will be okay. Yeats understood that humankind continually creates difficulties for itself, and with the current national and global trend toward toxic individualism, it is hard to see a positive outcome for many, many people who are innocent but who are also caught up in the upheaval. A moral, spiritual, and climatic shift is in the of

Have I yet waxed rhapsodic about my cast-iron grill pan? No?  Well then. Smash burgers with melted cheese. Grill-seared chops. I can't wait to keep testing it out.  Full disclosure: I'm a FoodTV junkie, and I love to cook. Now, don't misunderstand me, I love to go out to eat, too-- I'm a bit of a foodie, and I'm fairly particular as to where and what I eat, and I hate to be disappointed. I rarely order anything when we are out that I can make at home, because why would I?  We have our favorite places to go, but even those tend to get it a little wrong sometimes. But wow, what I can do with new equipment! That said, a list of our favs would include Iron Furnace Brewery (the beer... and the sandwiches...and the beer cheese...best: the salad. No kidding. The freakin' salad.) We like Littleton Freehouse, too-- they make a good fish and chips and a french dip sandwich. And the Northern Frosty Bar--those burgers on the buttered/toasted brioche roll are spot-on. And Me

Two people were feted at a retirement party yesterday afternoon; it was a nice gathering, and some other former teachers were there as well. What's bugging me is that I started at my school before either of them. In fact, one of them was a junior at the school when I started. I'm old. The feeling creeps in every single day. While I'm not the eldest person in the building, I have the weird "honor" of being the senior staff member--not that it has any rights or privileges, to be sure. More people leaving my sphere.  I have another 9 years to go, because part-time teachers don't get state retirement. So...I'll trudge along as best as I can. I like my job, but it's hard to see people I know leave.  Yesterday's field day was moderately successful, and the kids who came to school seemed to have fun. The local fire department even put up a water curtain-- they got soaked and had a good time doing it. Before all that, the high school kids helped do some of

Not a lot today. At least, nothing new. Weather is grey and damp, allergies are still annoying, and we are doing a full day of outdoor stuff at school-- in other words, holding pattern. The Supreme Court is still compromised, the political situation is still toxic, and so it all goes.  Metaphor: I flipped on the light here in my front room so I could type all this and the bulb blew. I've been waking up with showtunes in my head: yesterday, it was Just You Wait, Henry Higgins from My Fair Lady, and today it was a rousing rendition of Do You Hear the People Sing? Do You Hear the People Sing? from Les Mis . Is my subconscious angry?  Hope you have a good day! C

I could write to you about the fear and horror I feel every time I read more about the GOP's plan for the rest of us, called Project 2025. That sort of dystopian vision reaches far beyond anything I've ever read in 1984, Brave New World, or various Holocaust narratives. The idea of an all-powerful president surrounded by hand-picked loyalists, the establishment of a state religion and the cessation of individual rights scares me. The GOP marches on, ready and slavering over the idea of eating the country-- you and me included. But that's not a great way to start Monday (or any day, for that matter). I could meander through what I did all weekend, that the rain has been omnipresent, that the pollen continues to make things yellow, but that's probably not news to you. And, to be honest, not very interesting.  Nor will I ramble on about the tediousness of the last few days of work for the school year: the small hiccup in my paycheck, the cleaning of classrooms, etc. Bori

A few minutes of quiet before the day truly gets rolling. Coffee consumed. Birds are twittering outside the window. G is snoozing in his chair (we must have the post-getting up snooze).  Things have been busy, chaotic, and down-right upended in some ways. It's hard to believe it's only been not yet a full week. Having G home every day, every minute has been an adjustment. He is not supposed to do much at all; no weight bearing, no driving, no nuthin'. That does not mean he is fully compliant, but he's been, on the whole, pretty much sedentary, and it's chafing at him. He's not been the sort to just sit for long stretches, but here we are. Pray for healing, please.  That said, it's been raining on and off for a few days, so outdoor work is on hold. I don't mind waiting a little bit, but the weeds are enormous. The next dry-enough day to do the vinegar trick looks like Wednesday. I'll prep for that. Garden plants are looking vibrant and green, blossoms

So, the Red Sox blew a game against the sadly underperforming White Sox last night. This, after bludgeoning them the night before. And after a compelling performance against Atlanta the night before that. Fans: Yay, they are hitting! Awesome! Announcers: "the hard-hitting Sox..." Jinxed.  I have a hard time getting openly excited or proud of any team I support, mainly because I know how fast that changes-- especially in New England, right? Just like the weather? It's a hold-over, a regional fatalism, that is somewhat linked to old Puritan beliefs. At least, that's my theory, and I'm not the only one to hold that theory close. It's too seductive to say, hey, my team is awesome, they'll beat anybody. Because then they don't.   I blame the announcers. They get running on about this player or that, how amazing they are, what their stats are (listening to Youk: "exit velo")-- and then they stink up the park like week-old tuna. The pundits run hot

Well, I, for one, hope that the steady, soaking rain we had all night washed some pollen off. What a strange thing, to see sheets and clouds of yellow suspended in the air for miles yesterday. It was tricky breathing. I'm grateful for both my A/C and the air purifiers I have in the house. That said, we have academic awards today. My seniors are all done. The sophomores in Brit Lit will be talking about the story of Pygmalion and watching My Fair Lady. I'm doing my best to slide into summer somewhat gracefully.  It'll take a few days, but I'll get my new rhythm and schedule going. In the meantime, I'm enjoying my garden growing (and so are the weeds-- must deal with those), the flowers blooming, and the warmer weather.  I'm also cogitating on a micro-essay about the crazy wives in Brit Lit and what it says, historically, about women's lack of agency. That will take a little bit more thinking time. I hope your day is lovely, C

We had a wonderful night's worth of steady rain, which is a blessing. I have not had the chance to set up a soaker hose and so on, so this buys me a little time. There's so much growing and needing some attention, but yesterday when I got home, G and his brother were trying (and eventually, were successful) to capture a swarm. Warm temps and abundant pollen allowed the hive to grow very quickly, and coupled with three days of heat, they split into two groups. Luckily, G had already set up an empty hive for this eventuality, so (we hope) the new crew will settle in nicely. This is the first time G has actually been home when bees have swarmed; usually it's just me and Meg and we do our best to get help to deal with it, or they just take off. I suppose that's a small silver lining to G's medical leave. Having him home and antsy is not going to be easy for any of us, but we'll manage. I hope. Today, though, is another school day. The seniors are restless, too-- thi

Well, the summer got reorganized already before it even got going. G has a foot injury that is not healing well, so, radical changes are necessary. He will not be going to work for about a month (or more), and must stay off it, no load bearing, no driving, etc. We'll manage, but there's little flex in the budget, and we can't go anywhere. So, the three-day beach vacation that was the crown jewel of the summer is put off for yet another year.  There's plenty of additional chores to keep me busy though, and as time progresses, we'll see if he can go and do anything maybe local, but for now, he is on high restriction for activity. I, on the other hand, will, with Meg's help, pick up the maintenance things. There are some projects that were on the priority list that likely won't get done, but we'll see how that goes. For example, I cannot get up on the extension ladder to scrape and paint windows upstairs. Sigh.  So, yeah. I already bought sundresses for the

I could talk about Holly running through a cloud of bubbles, giggling.  I could chat about the Woody Allen series I'm watching, Crisis in Six Scenes . (Miley Cyrus as a 1960s revolutionary, anti-Vietnam activist?) I could perseverate on a whole lot of things in the national news. (If a person cannot join the military if he/she is a felon, how can he/she serve as Commander in Chief?) But I won't. The impossible disconnect between fun, quirky, and downright scary that is our mental daily fare is boggling.  Suffice it to say, the weather is lovely, I have a handle on end of the school year stuff, and I'm trying not to drown in should-do/didn't do/ what to do. Maybe tomorrow I'll have something cogent, witty, or otherwise interesting to say.  Or not. We'll see. C

Lookit that. It's Monday again. The weekend flew by, I swear. This is the last full week of class for most of my students; the seniors will be done on Thursday. The others have to tough it out til next Tuesday, but I suspect there will be a slight uptick in absenteeism next Monday and Tuesday, if students are not over their absences for the term. So, I have them as a captive audience for this week, anyhow. Final papers are due from the AmLit kids on Wednesday, and on Friday by 9am from the BritLit kids. I'll be reading like a crazy person to get them assessed and grades figured. Then, the non-fun stuff: entering grades online for both school and the colleges, tidying up the paperwork, putting away all the "stuff" of my in-school existence... and then, the waiting. I tend to get things done quickly; I've already taken down many of the posters, and started stowing the nonessentials. I hate last minute flurrying about. But then, I am required to be there, and if my

Life has a way of offering up correctives, even if they are the small, niggling sort. On top of all the good writerly surprises, and at the very end of a lovely, warm day filled with fun with Holly's new swing set and sunshine, the dishwasher got cranky again. And my recalcitrant phone got weird (maybe it's okay now?). Ah, the temblors of stupid little stuff, right? I won't let them rock my world, though-- the weather is gorgeous, and I have a full day of writing with old and new friends ahead. Yes, it's online, but hey, that's okay. That means I have full access to my bathroom and when we have a break or two, I can pop outside on the deck for fresh air and sunshine. No classroom walls to hem me in. I'll be done for the day around 3pm, and I hope I have a good start on some new work. I'm itching to write stuff, new stuff, not incarnations or incantations of the old stuff. I want to get a little deeper into the world of words. I want to push the safe aside an

After a very short night's sleep (awake at 2:15, nothing after), I got up, groggy and needing as much coffee as I could gulp down. I have a pretty busy day ahead: laundry, bed linens, groceries... but first, check emails. Hooray! I got a lovely long letter from the editor of a new publication called The   Grav el Road . I usually do not send work out to new journals these days, because there's no guarantee they will see the light of day. But this one intrigued me, because it is described as a journal dedicated to "agricultural arts" and storytelling. I have a few poems about rural life, so I sent off a set of five. They accepted all five, and there's a small honorarium included. (I feel like Jo March waving her five dollars!!) This is on the heels of my getting news that two other poems appear in Synaeresis arts + poetr y, an online publication from Canada. And another poetry book review was published yesterday on MicroLit Almanac (the editor, Cat Parnell, is so