Posts

Showing posts from July, 2010

imitating cowboys

You know how sometimes you offer your help and then regret the offer as soon as the task is at hand? Last night Farmer MacDonald stopped by looking for my housemate, RugbyGirl, because there were cows out of the pasture. As I listened to Farmer MacDonald, two thoughts popped into my head: 1. I had never been to this particular field where the cows were now out. 2. The times I've helped get the cows back into the pastures before I've always had fun doing it. So, I thought, "why not?" and offered my help to Farmer MacDonald.

I pulled my hair into a ponytail, pulled on my muck boots, hopped in the bed of the Farm truck and we were off; navigating the windy and hilly road out of town, past the town beach. We pulled off the road, alongside a picturesque field which I have driven past many times before; admired as a spot where the changes in our New England seasons can be viewed at their greatest; a field of tall grasses and reeds, hedged in the back by a row of trees and …

another broken promise

I swear I will write soon. About Farm life. And my life. And just plain life. Until then, another poem to pacify. In my attempts to broaden my poetry base I have fallen into reading Gwendolyn Brooks as of late. This poem speaks to me, maybe for no other reason than that it is short and succinct. Enjoy!

"Real cool"
We real cool. WeLeft school. We

Lurk late. We
Strike straight. We


Sing sin. We
Thin gin. We

Jazz June. We
Die soon.
~ Gwendolyn Brooks

trees in those places

I know I am a total tool for not writing lately, but life and summer are going by so fast these days! More soon--from my own mouth (or mind!), I swear!

Another gem by our newest Poet Laureate:

"Native Trees"


Neither my father nor my mother knew

the names of the trees
where I was born
what is that
I asked and my
father and mother did not
hear they did not look where I pointed
surfaces of furniture held
the attention of their fingers
and across the room they could watch
walls they had forgotten
where there were no questions
no voices and no shade


Were there trees
where they were children
where I had not been
I asked
were there trees in those places
where my father and my mother were born
and in that time did
my father and my mother see them
and when they said yes it meant
they did not remember
What were they I asked what were they
but both my father and my mother
said they never knew


~ W.S. Merwin

the green fields where we've been

In honor of our newest Poet Laureate, another poem:

"Green Fields"

By this part of the century few are left who believe
In the animals for they are not there in the carved parts
of them served on plates and the pleas from the slatted trucks
are sounds of shadows that possess no future
there is still game for the pleasure of killing
and there are pets for the children but the lives that followed
courses of their own other than ours and older
have been migrating before us some are already
far on the way and yet Peter with his gaunt cheeks
and point of white beard the face of an aged Lawrence
Peter who had lived on from another time and country
and who had seen so many things set out and vanish
still believed in heaven and said he had never once
doubted it since his childhood on the farm in the days
of the horses he had not doubted it in the worst
times of the Great War and afterward and he had come
to what he took to be a kind of earthly
model of it as he wandered south in his si…

apps and poetry

Two articles I found of interest:

Top Ten Apps
I already downloaded some of these to my new iTouch.

W.S. Merwin named 2010-2011 Poet Laureate.
This peaked my interest because one of his poems, "Unchopping a tree," has been a favorite of mine since my friend B1 read it aloud years ago.

"Unchopping a Tree"

Start with the leaves, the small twigs, and the nests that have been shaken, ripped, or broken off by the fall; these must be gathered and attached once again to their respective places. It is not arduous work, unless major limbs have been smashed or mutilated. If the fall was carefully and correctly planned, the chances of anything of the kind happening will have been reduced. Again, much depends upon the size, age, shape, and species of the tree. Still, you will be lucky if you can get through this stages without having to use machinery. Even in the best of circumstances it is a labor that will make you wish often that you had won the favor of the universe of ants,…

passing time pickling

Image
Best friend L, hubby K and girls: L, A and V left today for saltier air; replaced by my brother A3 and girlfriend R.N. D. I feel like I haven't had time yet to catch my breath. After the bestie's family left I cleaned a little, laundered a little and checked on my cucumbers AGAIN. Already 32 more cucumbers for the picking today, enough to warrant pickle making!

After running in to town for mason jars I began a batch only to realize that I didn't even have enough vinegar to pickle all the cucumbers; the resulting batch consisted of only two quarts worth. However, the batch of pickles (though small) were a good distraction until my brother A3 and his girlfriend  R.N. D arrived. Catching up and a pizza dinner down at the Farm's brick oven, then hanging out at B1 & B2s for the evening.

Early tomorrow A3, R.N. D and I head to Boston for a day spent wandering the Freedom Trail. I should be sleeping, but I still have laundry to fold before I can even find the bed in the…

satisfied customers

Image
My best friend L, husband K and their three fun kids: L (8 years), A (5.5 years) and V (8 months) are here. We've hustled and bustled around and seen lots of cool stuff and maybe I will write more about that when I'm not so tired.

My favorite part of today was when we looked at my garden and I was pleased-as-punch to find the girls (L & A) so enthusiastic about it. We tasted things straight from vines; tomatoes green and fattening in the sun were examined and squeezed; questions were asked. The girls particularly liked seeing my cucumber plants, the vines tangling and interweaving--reminding me of my old female relatives for some reason--fruits hidden. I showed the girls how I search for the cucumbers, small 4-5 inch fruits just perfect for pickling and then the three of us were scouting. It's still early yet, but I rubbed our treasures--5 cucumbers--clean on my shirt and we sampled the fruits of our hunt. These pictures show the girls enjoying their fresh snack. 

how does our garden grow?

Image
Like this:
1. My tomatoes are a go! 2. TSO working on his part of the plot. 3. More of my tomatoes. 4. My cucumber, pumpkins and watermelons--the plot which is all mine; and out of control! 5. First cucumber; pickles here we come. 6. One of my first pumpkins--teeny tiny! 7. Resting after TSO and I put my tomato stakes into the ground; very hot day. 8. View of my tomatoes (front), back to TSO's tented peas (he also has carrots growing inside the base of that teepee).

lovely

In my never ending search to find new poetry I found this gem. Lovely.

"To Be In Love"

To be in love
Is to touch with a lighter hand.
In yourself you stretch, you are well.
You look at things
Through his eyes.
A cardinal is red.
A sky is blue.
Suddenly you know he knows too.
He is not there but
You know you are tasting together
The winter, or a light spring weather.
His hand to take your hand is overmuch.
Too much to bear.
You cannot look in his eyes
Because your pulse must not say
What must not be said.
When he
Shuts a door-
Is not there_
Your arms are water.
And you are free
With a ghastly freedom.
You are the beautiful half
Of a golden hurt.
You remember and covet his mouth
To touch, to whisper on.
Oh when to declare
Is certain Death!
Oh when to apprize
Is to mesmerize,
To see fall down, the Column of Gold,
Into the commonest ash. ~ Gwendolyn Brooks

returning to that old town

Image
Happy 50th Birthday, To Kill a Mockingbird!

"Maycomb was an old town, but it was a tired old town when I first knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in the square. Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer's day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men's stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three-o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum."
~Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, (Scout Finch)

"When a child asks you something, answer him, for goodness' sake. But don't make a production of it. Children are children, but they can spot an evasion quicker than adults, and evasion simply muddles 'em." ~Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird, (Atticus Finch)

"They're certainly entitled to think that…

on weeding

Feel like I haven't mentioned library life lately, so:

Had a job interview for the perfect part time Children's Librarian position ever. Seriously. Reading the posting was like feeling slightly violated that someone had somehow looked at my resume and maybe into my soul just a little. Seriously, that perfect. Really!! And yet, oh, how that whole situation breaks my heart. The library was gorgeous; the whole children's department was almost as large as the entire library I used to work at; state of the art everything; perfect; and oh...nearly two hours away, when all was said and done with traffic, etc.

So, it was with a VERY heavy heart that I said "thank you very much, but I won't waste your time, because I just can't make this drive four days a week." So, needless to say I am still looking. My best friend L says that, "the perfect library job will come along and everything will work out the way it's supposed to." I want to believe that, bu…

a prickly encounter, part 2

Image
You might remember that some time back I wrote about my early morning encounter with the porcupine; he/she came back. Apparently this tree, which he/she is pictured in, is fast becoming a favorite--it is after all one of those really great climbing/sitting in trees, so it is obvious that the porcupine has good taste.
RugbyGirl and I were sitting outside chatting the other night when I heard some kind of small animal noises; setting off the motion sensor lights allowed us to see the little quilled wonder, who was this time sitting under the tree, chewing on bark and watching us.

Seeing as how this was our second meeting I felt that I could approach him/her again in a friendly fashion and got within about two feet before our neighbor raised quills to greet me. TSO said he wasn't taking me to the vet if I got quilled--how thoughtful--and I guessed he had a point, so I backed away and left the porcupine to continue his late night snack.

Some days I feel like I am living in a National …

embers still burning faintly

I haven't written lately partly because it is so damn hot and that makes me cranky; but partly also because things have been busy around here. Work, garden work, yard work, library work. Work work work, which makes way for play--which will be happening soon. My best friend L and K and their three girls: L, A and V will be coming out for a week--next week--followed by my brother A3 and his girlfriend Dayna, who will be here for a few days.

So, in place of anything I could write I will share this poem which feels so familiar to me for some reason.

"Continuities"
Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost,
No birth, identity, form--no object of the world.
Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing;
Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain.
Ample are time and space--ample the fields of Nature.
The body, sluggish, aged, cold--the embers left from earlier fires,
The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again;
The sun now low in the west rises for mornin…