Into the Wild Wood and Home Again

OK, I've procrastinated long enough. I honestly hate doing taxes. I always wonder if I've gotten it all wrong. Yes, I follow all the prompts, but still... it's nerve-wracking.  The weather suits my mood; overcast, chilly, damp. The only thing that is a saving grace is the sounds of all the little finches and chickadees gourmandizing the bird feeders. Soon enough, we'll have to take the feeders in at night (stupid bears), but for right now, they are a cheerful presence in an otherwise gloomy setting.  But that all said, I'm gonna get this stuff underway. And I hope we don't owe a metric ton of money. It seems every year we do. I dunno how other people get thousands back; I usually end up paying at least that much. And we do with-hold extra. It's boggling.  Wish me luck. Cover all of your loved ones with space, grace, and lotsa love...  C

Finally Friday. And my weekend plans? Laundry, groceries, other assorted house chores, doing the taxes.  Yeah, fun.  The way things are right now, I am morally repelled by submitting my taxes to what appears to be a never-ending sinkhole of depravity. It's hard to wrap my brain around it.  I'm no Thoreau, though.  And even dear ol' Henry David's moral stand was thwarted by well-intentioned people. It's hard to make a protest out of not paying taxes. The only person who notices is yourself, and then, likely, the government, and they have a lot of ways of enforcing the paying.  That all said, my discretionary income can and will go towards countering the repugnancy. If I'm a living zero-sum, so be it. No one goes hungry on my watch. I will educate kids, even under a damned tree like Socrates (but we all know that didn't end well).  But it's Friday. And I'm still feeling less than awesome, so, I will try to schedule some rest time this weekend as well. ...

We had a nice time last night in my once-a-month Zoom reunion with Frost Place friends. We chat, laugh, look at a couple of poems, and then...it's over. Sigh. It's hard to explain what community means to you unless you are missing yours.  I am glad to have sustained friendships, to be sure. I wish I had some writer friends local to me to work with. It's a lonely gig, this writing thing.  That said, the date is set for the first-ever on-air open mic at North Country Community Radio! Join us with a poem to share or just listen online/ livestream on Saturday, April 25th, 1-3 pm. We will be LIVE in the studio! How fun is that! The event page is on Facebook, if you want to sign up. Trying to keep a positive vibe going. There is a lot of not-positive stuff in our world right now. We need each other, even virtually.  Take care, friends. Hold each other in your hearts. And me, too, please. =) C

You know how I often wake up with a song already playing in my head? And how it's usually church hymns? Well, for the last couple of days (wow, on repeat) I have had Zombie Jamboree. I'm not sure what to make of that, but here we are. As always, the news is horrid. Even on the local level: some dude from Chicago has bought up the Staples building, pushing hard to make it a friggin' casino. I mean, why? Way to prey on people's economic desperation much. And way to bring in yet more traffic. And from the town meeting ballot results, it was pretty clear that casinos and "games of chance" are things a lot of people don't want. But here we are.  And the State Legislature didn't finish all the work they were supposed to do, mainly because of some scurrilous shenanigans orchestrated by the ones who did not want to give the bills sponsored by Democrats even the (legal, required) courtesy of debate. So...there's that.  On the larger scale, my new official f...

Happy St. Patrick's Day-- I hope your day is a soft one.  I'll be coming home today and making the soda bread. The corned beef and veggies will hit the crockpot at 1pm. Some things must remain constant in an ever-chaotic world, eh? (Well, the cough and fatigue are still constant, too. I am really tired of being sick.) So, in honor of the day, and because it's one of my favorite poems by Seamus Heaney, I'll share a l ink to "Digging ." The poem ends with one of the best statements of determination, resolve, and resistance: Between my finger and my thumb The squat pen rests. I’ll dig with it. And on that note, I'll take my leave o'you.  May Jesus, Mary, and Joseph ever bless you and yours, C

Still sick, but work awaits. I'd call out, but there are just some things subs can't do, and after last week's crazy disrupted schedule, I have to get things back on track with APLit kids.  Have a super day. And just know, you, at least, are not as dysfunctionally arrogant as former Speaker Newt Gingrich, who reposted a satirical meme about using A DOZEN THERMONUCLEAR BOMBS in the Middle East to create a new shipping lane. He meant it as a serious suggestion.  Just think about the literal insanity of that.  Hold your loved ones close.  C

Still stick. This RSV crap is legit. I will be taking today as off as I can (a load or two of laundry will get done, but that's it).  I think I've found my abs-- at least, that is what's sore from coughing so much. Little to no appetite, and general achy/lethargy. Bleah. Being sick is so dang boring. I did, however, have a really nice couple of hours in Jodie Hollander's class yesterday. There were two other people in the zoomer, and we talked about Frost and his use of form and metrics, then Jodie gave us a couple of prompts to work with. I think I have a draft I can keep and work on, too. That's cool. I appreciate the opportunity to do something other than sit around feeling icky.  Grocery shopping went well, too, and Meg and I did pop downtown for a brief outing. I needed to buy piddle pads. And we got coffee. Then I full-on crashed on the couch. G made sandwiches for dinner. I slept, propped on two pillows, until 7am. Not great sleep, but better than the prior t...

So, it's almost 9am. I didn't sleep well again, so when I got out of bed at 5, I just went to my recliner. There, I slept til about 8am. Something about not being flat. Stupid cold or whatever this crud is. At any rate, I feel a lot better now, not great, but functional.  It's cold. It snowed a little last night, so the mud has a scrim of new white frosting on it. The sun's out now, so I suspect it'll all melt in the next hour or so. Which is good, as I have errands to run before my online class.  This has been a very sick winter for our little crew, and for my students as well. I don't know why, but it seems that there's been one damned illness after another, none of them to be taken lightly. I have my theories about protracted periods of anxiety, fighting the weather, and having to function in a world on fire. At any rate, I don't have much on my agenda for the weekend, and that's fine by me. I need to rest a bit. I can't stand being sick over ...

So happy it's Friday. I've been struggling along with what appears to be a head cold, although Holly's school sent out an email about kids with RSV, and Holly's been sick again, so ?? Either way, I'm tired of sniffling and coughing. Bleah. And tomorrow I have a two-hour craft class online! I'm kind of excited to do it; it was unexpected, and I was invited to attend, so that's really nice.  I intend to only do groceries and maybe a few little things here or there this weekend. I need to lay low and get rid of this persnickety ick. And it's cold again-- no surprise, but still, ew. G fed his bees some sugar water to keep them going for a bit longer. First blooms (usually dandelions) are coming, but not just yet. But when they do, it feels all of a sudden. And the trees-- we'll be having leaf pollen in no time now. In fact, when I first started coughing, it was during that glorious three days of 65+ degrees, and I thought it might just be allergies. Nope...

It's 38 and rainy, dark...  When I read the news (and I do that far too often), I am tumbled into despair. Well, not quite despair-- but it's close. What can I do? And why should we? The horrors are tangible. Somehow, the national and global angst is pairing up with my odd anxiety about turning 60 in June. Those who have already hit that milestone seem fine enough, but it's really a loud ticking of a clock I hear in my head. And I'm really angry that the time I have left is being bludgeoned by a cabal of evildoers. It just doesn't seem at all fair.  Then I have to pull myself out of that cesspit of worry and "light denied" ( Thanks, Milton) , and figure out how to get one sock on after another.  I have coffee. A warm home. A family that loves me, and even likes me most of the time. I have a job that I do pretty well, and I have friends/acquaintances who seem genuinely pleased to hear from me. While my health is not as good as I'd like, I'm still ki...

Rain. And 34 degrees. And dark.  Yesterday's surprise of 73 and sunny was glorious, but I know in my heart that "it ain't over." Looking at the ten-day forecast, I see 20s and 30s again. Sigh.  But G's bees have survived the winter (so far)!! What a nice surprise for him yesterday. He went to the beeyard expecting to see nothing living, but was greeted by a cloud of bees doing a cleansing flight. Yes, bee poop everywhere. Let's hope they can manage to survive until dandelions pop up.  Us, too. This has been a very difficult winter. Yes, we've had these types of cold/snowy winters before, but seriously, it must be age. I'm tired of fighting it. Not tired enough to move to other locations (alligators, hurricanes, people who would irritate me with nonsense), but tired and ready for spring.  I'm sure you are, too, in many ways. Tired of the cold, both physically and metaphorically.  Have a good day, stay dry, and keep the faith.  C

Man o man, that hour change. It doesn't usually hit me hard, but it did this time. Maybe because I was a little restless sleeping, too, but yikes. Driving to work in the dark was not pleasant, but hey, the 65 degrees in the afternoon sure was.  Sunlight into the evening is nice, too. And the melting...all the melting. And mud. Well, that's not so great, but it's part of the package deal. Holly came home from school covered and wet, straight through her snow pants and her clothes. Tub time at 3pm. Luckily, I was in process with laundry, so in it all went.  Today is voting day in New Hampshire. In our neck of the woods, we do both the town ballot and the school one on the same day (other towns that still use voice vote tend to split them up to different sessions). I'm sure some folks will pause over a lot of the expenditures; prices of every damned thing are rising, town taxes went up, and yeah...when gas has gone up 69 cents in a week, it's hard to feel magnanimous. ...

Well, it looks like Monday found me.  This week is going to be a little weird, at least as schedule goes. Today is normal, so there's that. Tuesday, we have students for a half day, PD for the afternoon, and it's also Town Voting day. I will definitely vote. I refuse to not have my opinions recorded. Wednesday, we have an assembly that takes my entire APLit class time. Thursday, hallelujah, and Friday, will be normal.  I'm going to try to schedule a hair cut-- wish me luck.  At least evenings seem to be on track, which is helpful. We'll have Holly every day except for Tuesday, so I will probably cook something for dinner that is not her favorite. There will be green vegetables, anyhow. Crazy kid doesn't like anything green, except bell peppers and grapes. Weird. But she loves the color green, as I'm told. (And purple, pink, and anything rainbow.) She's a riot. We went to see the new Pixar movie, Hoppers . It was definitely a fun movie, and it had a serious m...

I spent a little over an hour chatting with Nate Alberts on the radio, talking about poetry and poems. Basically, why we desperately need poems, especially in difficult times. Whether those situations are personal or national/ global, words of inspiration, comfort, or companionship are critical to emotional and spiritual survival. We read poems at the important occasions of our lives: weddings, funerals, graduations, and the like. Why does our society then disparage poets? Poems are survival guides. Shelley said that poets are the "unacknowledged legislators of the world," mainly because they both capture the moments and they question them as well, no matter if the moments are individual or on a broader scale.  I shared a few of my touchstone poems, the ones I turn to when I need to feel a little more centered. One is Keats' "When I Have Fears," another is Mary Oliver's "Wild Geese," and the last I shared is Wendell Berry's "The Peace of W...

It's Saturday, and I have a busy afternoon ahead. I say afternoon, because I am declaring the morning a "half day off"-- I am enjoying that idea immensely. I got up when I heard a huge booming crash. I thought someone had backed into the house. But no, near as we can figure, it was a huge chunk of ice coming off the roof. It's been a few days of melting, so that would not surprise me at all. Well, it did surprise me, woke me right up, but you know what I mean. So I came downstairs all a-flutter, and once no casualties were discovered, I went to my recliner and napped. Nice.  So, it's 8 am, and I'm just now getting a cup of coffee. Also nice. I'll rally soon, but for now, it's quiet and I'm content. G has a later shift today, so he's still poking around, too, but he'll be leaving shortly for work. This is nice for him; normally he's on the road by 5:45. But because he's closing, we'll have a late dinner, and it gives me a long st...

Friday, and the snow is melting apace. Now, I'm not so crazy as to think we are out of the clutches of winter just yet, but I was cheered to see high 50s. My front walk is more than "puddle wonderful"-- it's a slushy lake. So, boots can't quite do the job entirely, and wet socks are a reality. But it's melting! I'm studiously refraining from any direct commentary about all things national and global. Suffice it to say, I'm glad we won't be seeing any more cos-play Barbie outfits for a while. But now, we have an honest-to-goodness cage match fighter. Makes you wonder why the college degrees were necessary sometimes.  There's enough horror, destruction, and degradation to go around. It's hard to know where to look, what to get outraged about, and what to do about anything at all. Gas prices jumped 30 cents in three days around here, and heating oil is ratcheting up. Winter can't end fast enough for me; we just bought another ton of pellet...

Well, I guess I am in the midst of a micro-media-blitz! The announcement about my radio chat dropped yesterday, and in this morning's paper, there's a (shortened/edited) news release about my little book #2. I'll take it. I dislike the sense of blasting out my own whatever-- some weird self-aggrandizement that I honestly don't feel-- so it's good to get the media hype, even this tiny bit. We'll leave it at that for now.  And today, it's neither below zero or snowing at the moment. And it's not even dark. Imagine that.  I'm not yet feeling springing, but yesterday's mid-40s temps melted a lot of snow. The puddles are deep, to be sure. We lost about a foot, including the new layer, by mid-day.  And so it goes. My eyes are healing, I did get a slight cold to go with the ignominy of it all, but the coffee is hot and I'm thinking about breakfast. Eating food at this ungodly hour is a discipline in and of itself, but alas, I must.  Have a good day,...

Y'know, it's pretty darn stressful trying to birth a book amid global and national chaos.  Since Finishing Line Press is a small operation, they have a pre-sales quota that authors must meet in order for them to publish the book, and to be honest, that is the most stressful part of the whole process. I'm trying not to panic; there's still a month until the deadline. And likely, I'll just buy copies to fill out the quota, and sell them locally. But still. It's one little nagging thing, right? Sales are a lot slower this time around, and I hope that people are not just sick of my little poems and they are only clapping politely. (Imposter syndrome rears its ugly head.) And I *hate* reminding folks about the deadline, even though people are so kind and they will probably order a copy-- but sigh, the deadline. Sigh again. ( It's April 3 ) Anyhow, maybe the press release I sent to the papers will get published. And maybe people will listen to the chat on the Nort...

Back to work...about time, eh? I spent a relatively unproductive day yesterday, since I had to be home and limit eye use. I'm still struggling with the light/pain issues, but the meds are helping. I might not stay for writing lab today; that way, I can go home and rest my eyes. We'll see how things go. That all said, I hope you all have a super day. I'll probably have a lot more to write about soon enough.  Oh! One thing: if you have not yet pre-ordered my little book , you can still get it at the discount price and I'll be sending out the broadsides after April 3.  And I'll be on the radio with Nate Alberts on Saturday at noon! You can listen live! I'll be chatting about why we need poetry in our disconnected, difficult world today... and sharing a few poems from the new book, too.  Take care, C

 Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I have to call out sick today. I woke up in the middle of the night with pinkeye. Gross.  So, short note, since my eyes hurt like hell. This is frustrating.  Hold your loved ones close, keep an eye out for everyone else, and please, pray for a break in the misery news out there. C

" Masters of War "-- Bob Dylan Let me ask you one question, is your money that good? Will it buy you forgiveness? Do you think that it could? I think you will find when your death takes its toll All the money you made will never buy back your soul... Please pray for the dead children, the horrified and hurt people who are affected by war.  Please pray for those of us who are scared witless about the future for our own children. Please insist on and act for justice, for rational thought, for humane behavior, for compassion. God help us all. We sure need it. With love to all, but in anger over the situations... C