Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
When I don’t know what to write, I take a walk. Yesterday, Albert (“Al-bear”) and I set out for our neighborhood walk, but there was a stray dog roaming around. Albert could not focus. He wanted to go play with this new friend. I’m wary when it’s a dog I don’t know, so I dragged him back home and decided to drive to City Park.
A whole new playground for my 2 year old doodle with many new smells to investigate and large ducks to chase.
I love a morning where the sun is refracted by fog. I spotted a wood duck perched in a tree above the pond. I could hear their distinct call of warning, “Dog. Dog. Dog.” “Eek. Eek. Eek.”
I felt rejuvenated. Who knows? I may take this route more often.
Yesterday I walked into The Pie Bar carrying my new baby, What’s That Sound? Birds of the Bayou. I was hoping to meet with the owner to ask him to place it in the gift shop. When I came in, there was Tammy from church having a glass of wine on the leather sofa.
Tammy said, “I want to get your book for my new grandbaby.” So the book I had in my hand went to her new baby, Joy.
“To Joy—Listen close!” I drew a little bird emoji, and handed my new baby to Tammy.
I went back out to my car. (Have books, will travel). This time I grabbed two just in case.
I was meeting my friend and fellow picture book writer Mary Beth for a critique session. Mary Beth doesn’t have grandchildren yet, but she works with young kids as an OT.
“Of course I want one,” said Mary Beth. “We have to support each other, and besides, it’s precious.”
I also caught the owner, and he said he would stock it in the gift shop. “I always want to support local authors.”
This baby has taken a while to come to life. Now that he’s here, I am pleased to pass him around for others to enjoy.
Signing books at our local independent bookstore, Books Along the Teche.
If you are interested in participating in the Kidlit Progressive Poem in April, please pop over to this post and comment. April is coming soon.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
I was having lunch when I heard the loud Boom! I looked out the kitchen window beyond the peaceful bird feeder and whirlygig to see a huge truck, 18 wheeler, with the power pole and power lines wrapped around the incredible load. What happened?
When I first went outside, I saw smoke rising, so I called 911.
“What is your emergency?”
I explained as best I could that in the curve of the road, an 18 wheeler had taken down a power pole and there was smoke.
The neighbors gathered as we kept a safe distance. It wasn’t long before the first responders came.
But the true heroes of the day were the electric company workers. At one time I counted 7 Cleco trucks.
Brandon (we became pals through the ordeal) came to me and said, “It’s gonna to be a while.”
I imagined days, but he assured me they would finish before dark.
I said, “What was the truck doing here?”
Apparently, DOTD had given him the route to take and he’d already run into trees along the way. But this accident had knocked out power for a whole neighborhood!
A little before 6 PM, I was going to my car to go to choir practice, and Brandon walked up again.
“Everyone has power but your house. You have 3 way so you need to call an electrician.”
I texted my husband and called the company he suggested. After going through a long automated system, the AI person said it would be 3 days.
Brandon said, “Don’t worry about it. I know a guy.”
Soon, Fox was here, checking out our system. All the guys gathered around. I couldn’t help but think “How many Cleco workers does it take to power a house?”
By 7 PM we had power restored. Those guys are my new heroes.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Each Wednesday I post a photo that appeals to my poetic senses. I invite you to join me in writing a small poem, poem of presence, in the comments and support other writers with encouragement.
Today’s photo is by a local retired teacher photographer Lory Landry. We do not live in the Bluebonnet state of Texas; however, we have a neighbor who has successfully planted bluebonnets in a ditch near the road. I’m tempted every year to stop and romp through the flowers. It appears that Lory did just that and took her camera along. It takes a steady hand and skills to capture a busy bee.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Last week during the Teche Plein Air Competition, I attended a demo by the art judge Charlie Hunter. In addition to dumb snail jokes, he imparted some wisdom that I think could be applied to any art, writing included.
I’ve heard that on auto pilot, the plane is pointed in the wrong direction about 90% of the time, constantly correcting. When you are painting, you are constantly editing. Your mark does not have to be a genius mark.
The scene Charlie Hunter was painting. His car is on the right. Charlie Hunter’s finished painting
What I gained from this art demo was practice makes miracles happen. He kept telling the artists, “Draw. Draw. Draw.”
Watching him work while constantly chatting was watching a miracle happen. He would dab paint here and there, erase with a paper towel, stick a q-tip in his mouth and remove paint with the small tip. He even used a squeegee to make the telephone poles. He worked around the bright white focal point of the empty parking lot. Amazing!
What I don’t need to mention is that he was painting with his left hand. He has no use of his right arm.
Perspective, vision, erasing…how can we translate this instruction to our own writing?
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
For years now, we have watched nesting in the wood duck house my husband built for the bayou bank. This time of year beginning in late February a female hen comes to the box to lay a clutch of eggs.
We invested in a Ring doorbell camera, not to watch for criminal activity, but to see the comings and goings of a resident wood duck hen.
View from the camera when another hen came in to gossip.
These days my phone alerts me constantly. “There is motion at the wood duck house.”
The eggs are due at the end of the month. She usually sits for 28-31 days. We had a cool snap, so I’m worried that all the eggs won’t hatch. But that is the nature of nature, right?
Once the eggs hatch, all on the same day, the little ones will jump from the house 24 hours later. It is a wonder to watch. A few years ago we caught it on video.
Last year I released a small chapbook of poems about the wood duck nesting season, Wood Duck Diary. The funds from the sales benefit the Teche Project. This is a book of tanka poems in English and in French.
March 11
Feathering the Clutch
Hen stitches feathers one by one. Woven blanket
clutch-cover of down. Her beak a knitting needle. Eggs safe and snug below.
Thank you to Two Writing Teachers for creating an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write and share.
Poetry Friday is hosted today by Linda Baie at Teacher Dance.
Inspiration for writing a poem can come from anywhere. I have learned to pay attention to the signs and thank the universe when words become poems. This week I read Eleanor Wilner’s poem “Of a Sun She can Remember”. This poem is a renga poem in which she took the last line of another poem to become her title.
I used the last line of Wilner’s poem, along with other ideas, lines, words from my daily reading to create a poem.
The Golden Net of Meaning in the Light after Eleanor Wilner
When a missile misses its mark, children die. When channels are closed, prices rise. Choose your trouble. Turn your blinded eyes toward the sun. Pace the meadow filled with butterweed. Give your heart-swift to the clouds hovering. We are all connected as the golden cross-hatched web tethered between rose bushes. What I need to say— After the rain, birds sing a glorious chorus.
Margaret Simon, drafted
Pádraig Ó Tuama
If you would like to participate in the Kidlit Progressive Poem in April, please go to this link to sign up.
April is National Poetry Month. Each year the #kidlit poetry community writes a progressive poem. The idea originated from Irene Latham. Each day the poem travels to a different blog, and the poet adds a new line to the poem. Past poems can be seen here.
If you’d like to participate in this year’s progressive poem, please comment on this post with your date choice and blog URL link. Come back to this post to copy and paste the schedule into your blog post. Feel free to email me if you have any questions.
Margaret Simon lives on the Bayou Teche in New Iberia, Louisiana. She is a retired elementary gifted teacher who writes poetry and children's books. Welcome to a space of peace, poetry, and personal reflection. Walk in kindness.
Reflections on the Teche 