Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

Isn't it funny that when you don't have to get up early, your body says...hey, fool, it's time to get up... It's okay, I have coffee.  I actually don't mind being up. It's the getting busy, hustling to hit the shower, etc. part that frustrates me most mornings. I'm not a morning person. I need quiet and about an hour to get all systems up and running well. Usually, though, I have about fifteen minutes on a work day. Could I get up even earlier, so I can have that quiet hour? NO. Five o'clock is sufficient. I manage. But oh, what a lovely feeling to put on the bathrobe and shuffle about with a cup of coffee that I don't have to gulp down.  I'm waiting until the sun comes up to see just how much snow we got last night (and it is still snowing)-- the prediction was for 3-5; G says it looks more like 8+ inches. O lordy. Holly's last basketball practice is this morning, so we'll have to hope that it stops snowing and that the roads are not awf...

Today is the full day of Winter Carnival activities. And for the first time in eons, trivia is part of the plan. Granted, it's a short version, but still-- fun to be included. I had to rummage in my closet for all the blue clothes I could find for today; as a sophomore class adviser, their assigned color to wear today is blue. I found comfy blue stuff (even my underwear!!) so I'm all set. All I can say is, I'm glad we are not wearing white. That's harder for me in the winter. Or really, anytime. I tend to get stuff on me if I'm wearing white.  That said, I'll be supervising activities until about noon, then I'll go get Holly. Today is the first day she's been back in school since last Thursday. Poor bean has been awfully sick. Figures, today's the last day before vacation week, but still, she misses her friends. They have a half day, so I will go pick her up at lunchtime, and then we'll figure out something or other to do. I hope the predicted sn...

New from U2: " American Obituary " Worth a listen.  Take care of those you love. Hang in there. C

We haven't had many birds at all at our feeders in the back yard this winter; first, there was the bear devastation, then we re-hung them after the coast was clear-- but no takers. G moved the feeders last week to the front yard, hanging them all in the lilac hedge. Still no takers. Then, in the late afternoon, I heard a mild bird-chirping racket!  How nice to see a chickadee, three purple finches, and one other small bird all vying for seed at one of the feeders! Hooray! They are a friendly presence, and I love hearing them and watching the swoop and flutter around.  I got really fond of watching the birds during the Covid lockdown months. There were so many! reduced traffic and other busy-ness, and the birds were in charge. Not so now, which is sad. Though in the summer months when the forsythia shrubs are all leafed out and the rose bush tangle is thick, the small ones love to hide and dart around. It's a lot of fun to float in the pool and have the birds talking to you wit...

Mardi Gras... I'll be spending it at work, then home, and likely no pancakes. Though that could change.  I'd like to give up social media for Lent, but I'm in the middle of promoting the pre-sales of my little book.  I will give up using credit cards.  I will try harder to not fall into despair.  It's a lot.  Love to all, C

  And here we are, Monday again.  The news cycle is toxic, and I spent far too much time reading and watching video this weekend. I feel like my brain needs a purge.  This is Winter Carnival Week at school-- dress-up days every day, games on Thursday afternoon and Friday. Today, the dress-up day is "white lie"-- I am not participating this time around, because I didn't want to go buy a plain white tee shirt to write on. The idea is to write a small untruth about yourself on your tee shirt and wear it.  Nah. I live it every day.  Lately, I've been feeling a little less of an imposter in the AP world, but it still hovers around me. And the poetry world-- yeah, I'm never going to be comfortable, or so it seems. Wife? Mother? Memere? I do my best, but I know I'm not ever going to measure up. I am just a short, round, grumpy old English teacher who is disappointed in the way the world is a mess. Unfortunately, I tend to see the world from that point of view more of...

I f inished reading Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna (2009). It is a truly remarkable tale, one that focuses on the complicated relationship we have here in the US with artists (all creatives, really) who are political, and with political artists. And yes, there is a distinction to be made there. She tells the story of a young man, Harrison Shepherd, born of an American father and a Mexican mother, and his complex relationship with people, artists in particular, and with his own inner struggles. He becomes a writer who is then excoriated by the government during the 1950s "Red Scare," all because he had worked for noted Mexican artists (Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo) and other communist revolutionaries (notably, Trotsky) as a young man living in Mexico. The press is easily led, people begin to shun him (even his closest male friend and his neighbors), and he becomes a ghost of himself. Even his publisher, who had made a lot of money off his work, canceled their relationshi...

Today's plan is upended; Holly has the flu. Poor bean can't catch a break. No basketball today-- and there's only one more next weekend. I was going to take her to practice then out for a special treat. Instead, I'll go get her some meds.  She will probably miss tomorrow's CCD session too. Things are never that easy, are they? So, instead of a fun Valentine's Day treat with my best girl, I'll be doing groceries, laundry, and cleaning bathrooms. Woo. At least they'll be done. And G and I had a great dinner out last night for V-Day, so that's all good.  I might rent a movie online tonight to watch; I've been very curious about Hamnet , and I see it's nominated for 8 Oscars. I should give it a look. A couple of years ago, I watched the movie Ophelia , which is loosely based on the doomed and ultimately suicidal female "love interest" of Hamlet's, and it was nice (she didn't drown herself in this film, and she is portrayed as a ...

Childcare issues in the United States are at the forefront of every parent/grandparent's mind. Today, Holly's teacher is out sick, so her entire class has no school-- but it's not a snow day, so I am going to work. Her father will be taking an unpaid day off to stay home. There are no babysitters-- people work. The entire situation just throws things into high relief: what are we, one of the wealthiest nations in the world, doing to working families? And I mean that literally. Doing TO , not doing FOR . Years ago, when women didn't work outside of the home, I suppose it was easier. But today, women do work. Most have to. And so do most grandparents. I recall years and years ago that the retirement age was a lot lower-- grands have to work until 67 (my age group), and the government wants to mandate it to be 70, or even later. There is a huge gap that the GOP is not discussing-- or wait, they are-- that statement about grandparents filling that role made by JD Vance stil...

I listened to a discussion/ power point presentation by a doctoral candidate whose research is focused on the lives of New England women during the Civil War, as evidenced by their letters. Her presentation was about on par with some of my students' work; yes, she's done research, but her suppositions are not necessarily supported by the letters, and her discussion was a surface analysis of her topic. I wish her well, but I'm really disappointed that it was not more enlightening. All she kept going back to was the fact that women had it financially hard (though the state of Maine had a process by which women with dependents could get assistance), they missed their husbands, and letters were a comfort.  Well, yeah. But ... I was hoping that her discussion would dig a lot deeper into the letters themselves, and not focus so much on her own assumptions about the lives of the women writers. I was looking to hear things like Abigail Adams' letters.  O well. Research being wh...

Snowing again. Sigh. We went from -22 on Sunday night, to more snow.  I'm reminded of the poem by Wallace Stevens, " The Snow Man ," which begins, "One must have a mind of winter" and then ends "And nothing himself, beholds/ Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is."  The poem is one long sentence, broken into five three-line stanzas. Because it is one sentence, it contains, quite literally, one admittedly complex thought. What does it mean to "have a mind of winter," and why is it necessary in order to ponder the almost koan-like concept of "nothing that is not there and the nothing that is."  What is not there can be taken literally: we can see what is missing in the landscape, especially if it is a familiar one. But to behold "the nothing that is" might take a little longer. What is that? What does it look like? I imagine the snow covered terrain, the unusual humps and slopes of things now lost to sight. Is tha...

Well, we had a two hour delay due to extreme cold. That made for another slightly confused day, but we managed. My creative writing kids are working on free verse poetry for the next couple of weeks; we started with prose poems. They seemed totally game to give it a shot. Today, we'll work on an abecedarian-- not really a fully free verse poem (but then, neither is a prose poem), but they are both good transitions from the form poems we have been invested in of late. We'll get to some wildly odd stuff soon enough.  The APLit kids are back in their shells, it seems. We read Benet's "By the Waters of Babylon" and they had no response. I mean NO response. Cracking this nut is getting harder and harder. I still need to finish reading and assessing their first round of essays, and then this one is going to be due on Friday. The focus is on the function of the narrator, primarily. We'll see how it goes. They are not really a particularly inquisitive or imaginative b...

Well, it's baseball season.  The halftime show was glorious. The game, not so much. But the Patriots were honestly outplayed. Seahawks came to win, and they did. There were some good moments, but in general...yeah. Not this time.  I didn't eat. I rarely do when the Pats are playing in the Super Bowl (and how weird and kind of wonderful to say that)-- I have lots of leftovers for dinner tonight as a result. And I'm tired. Saturday took a lot out of me, and yesterday was an early day with a late night.  Today? Work, then home to do some chores and take care of Holly. It's Monday. No big stuff there.  And that is a good thing. Have a good day, friends. Hold your loved ones close. It's 21 below zero here-- stay warm. C

Today, the first reading in church will be from Isaiah 58: 7-10. I'm really glad I get to be the lector. It seems very appropriate for our current times: Isaiah 58:7-10 New International Version 7  Is it not to share your food with the hungry      and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter— when you see the naked, to clothe them,      and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? 8  Then your light will break forth like the dawn,      and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you,      and the glory of the  Lord  will be your rear guard. 9  Then you will call, and the  Lord  will answer;      you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I. “If you do away with the yoke of oppression,      with the pointing finger and malicious talk, 1  and if you spend yourselves ...

Well, it happened. My favorite jeans tore. I can only hope it happened on my way home, or at home, and I'd not walked around all day with my undies peeking out of the tear. The back pocket caught on something.  So, I'll attempt a patch job. They won't go back to work, that's for sure, but I hate to toss a comfy pair of jeans just because they have a hole. I ordered a collection of "vintage" patches-- think Flower Child-- so it might be at least kinda cool? This whole situation reminds me of a favorite poem of mine, too, by Steve Kowit, titled " Notice. " It's one that I love to share with students, but mostly, I like the whole point of it, that nothing is guaranteed. That we need to be living aware of the fact that things can change or end at a moment's notice.  So, as the speaker says halfway through the poem: Take heed you who read this & drop to your knees now & again like the poet Christopher Smart & kiss the earth & be jo...

Well, then. Ten below zero again. And at 2 a.m., the town crew had heavy equipment out scraping the roads, reducing the snowbanks. A very loud, growling scrape, followed by insistent beep-beep-beep , over and over again. Lucky for us, only about 20 minutes of it. I did get back to sleep. Thank goodness.  And thank goodness it's Friday. Work, then home to get laundry going, then getting Holly, and so on. I think it's a good night for take-out dinner.  The news cycle is a morass of evil-intentioned statements. The once-venerable Washington Post is now fit to line cat litter boxes. One of our residents in town advocated for a significant cut in the proposed town budget because they see a "slow eviction of those who built Littleton." Sounds like whining about a loss of perceived privilege to me. The motion failed.  I'm all for fiscal conservativism, but that's not something we are seeing at the federal level, not by a long shot. And the local budget has no "...

Well, we have hit the warming trend for a few days-- well, until Saturday. The days are warm, bright, and melty--well, 20s is warm, right? Never fear; the single digits will be back this weekend. Of course.  My quiz bowl team has a tournament at the high school in the next town over on Saturday morning, so I know I'll be busy with them until around 1pm; then, it'll be off to the grocery store. I hope I don't run into a whole lot of mad snack-buyers. I bought our wings and chili fixings last weekend to beat the rush. I have no illusions that the Pats will win on Sunday, but y'never know... At any rate, it's almost baseball/softball season. Our kids are already warming up in "open gym" situations. And the early harbinger of spring has already sprung (no, not the rodent): Red Sox truck day was the other day. It's amazing how much stuff they send to Florida. According to various news reports, the trucks contained: 20,400 baseballs 1,100 bats 200 batting gl...

Finally got the APLit kids talking. They are a passive bunch, for sure. We have been working our way through short fiction, and finally-- FINALLY-- a story got them going so much they actually did want to talk about it. We read Hemingway's " The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber, " one of my all-time favorites. The characters are just so nasty!! There are so many analytical lenses to use in order to discuss elements of complexity in the story, too. Perfect for APLit. Character development, historical (re: colonialism), structural (sentence variations, use of foreshadowing, use of indirect characterization, how the title operates, etc.). Such fun.  And fun to read aloud. =) They are finishing up drafts for conferencing for the first critical analysis paper; that's what I get to do today. Read drafts. We'll see how they go; they will sit next to me as we go through the papers, so they get immediate redirection as needed. The assessment drafts are due on Friday, s...

ahhh, a balmy 12 below zero. The prognosticators were off by... yeah, 12 degrees or so. It's cold, dark, and February. We went to Candlemas at church last night, and it was lovely. The young person swinging the thurible didn't overdo it, too, which was nice-- I like the smell of incense, but sometimes it sets off my asthma.  We need light. We need it so very badly. Dark mornings are hard. Mental and emotional darkness are even harder. And when you put the two together, it's almost impossible to navigate.  I pray that today, and every day, the Light reaches the dark places.  Have a good day, friends. Hold all you love in Light as well. C

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