I am linking up today to It’s Monday, What are you Reading on Jen Vincent’s site, Teach Mentor Texts. Click on the image to find more blog Kidlit reviews.
With new grandsons to read aloud to, I have taken an interest in books that have rhythmic, poetic language. The words have to go quickly as Leo’s favorite part is turning the page. Buffy Silverman’s new release is just this kind of book. With quick rhyming verse, she takes us through a snow-melting day.
In my part of the world, South Louisiana, we do not get much snow. Yet, we have chickadees at the feeder all winter long. With lively and sharp photographs and bouncing, rhythmic language, we can learn about places that have a distinct seasonal change. Grand sons can point to the cardinal swooping, the rabbits bouncing, and the foxes pouncing.
On a Snow-Melting Day releases on February 4th, 2020. Hop into a delightful book on a marsh mucking, duck dapping day.
While the news of the world has most of us down and wondering what will happen next, my fellow poets and I turn to nature. Molly Hogan lets her eye find solace in nature in her poem this week. Linda Mitchell has haiku to share. And Catherine Flynn shares “Making Peace” by Denise Levertov, “The poets must give us the imagination of peace…”
For more links to poetry peace, click over to Sally Murphy’s site. Sally is an Australian author supporting #authorsforfireys on Twitter, an auction to help fire relief in Australia.
I was recently driving to New Orleans on a stormy day, but the closer I got to Nola, the clouds turned red from the setting sun and a rainbow appeared. Who doesn’t love a good rainbow to inspire promise?
But I was driving, so taking a picture was tricky, and writing a poem impossible. Later I tried dictating my idea into the notes app. Some of the words recorded. Enough for the idea to germinate into this draft.
A car wizzes past going 85 or 90 miles an hour. Weaving in and out, the driver couldn’t have noticed the sun drawing light into the clouds like a bonfire on a cold night,
Or the rainbow that appeared streaking more red than any rainbow I’ve ever seen. I slowed to snap a picture,
longing to forget the speeding car, the violent news of the day, and drive into the sunset with the promise of a rainbow.
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My second grandson was born in September, nine months after my first. The year of 2019 has been a big change for me as I step into this new role. Juggling two daughters requests for babysitting got a bit tricky around the holidays. Luckily it worked out that Maggie wanted New Year’s Eve and Katherine the Saturday after.
On Friday I traveled to New Orleans after an all day rain storm. The drive into the city is beautiful as the highway is bordered by swampland. I can often see herons or egrets soaring above. This time, however, I noticed the multi-color clouds on the horizon. As the sun set, a bright red rainbow appeared. I aimed my phone camera and took this picture.
Red rainbow over Nola
Julieanne Harmatz, fellow blogger from L. A., was vacationing with her husband, so we met up for a lovely dinner. On Saturday, we met at the City Park sculpture garden where there is a new Cafe Du Monde. (Beignets are a must-have on any trip to New Orleans.) By this time, I was in total charge of grandson Thomas. He was the perfect host, smiling and cooing right on cue. Julieanne took this picture of us in the Sculpture Garden.
I’m learning once again (it’s been 29 years since I had a baby) how to juggle a diaper bag, bottles, stroller and carseat, and all that goes along with caring for a baby. Even with the monitor right next to my bed, I wasn’t able to sleep Saturday night. Thomas slept just fine. I wouldn’t exchange that loving smile for anything. Being a grandma is pure joy!
My Sunday Night Poetry Swaggers Group discussed the One Little Word tradition and found that everyone had a slightly different take on whether or not it was a good practice. Heidi challenged us to write about whether or not we word for the first Friday of the month. You can read their posts here:
I’ve been choosing a word each year for 7 years. I enjoy the process of trying to find the one right word to guide my year.
I’m a two on the Enneagram. That means I’m a giver, someone who spends most of their time trying to ingratiate others. The good side of a two is being helpful and selfless. The idea is to get better at being who you are. So I subscribe to an Enneathought of the Day. This came on New Year’s Eve.
Present has been my word before, but it continues to fit because being present is a constant goal. For 2019, my word was Grace. Grace goes beyond presence to actually live with the peace of knowing you are loved.
My word this year was suggested by my son-in-law who knows me pretty well. I wrote about Embrace in my Spiritual Thursday post yesterday.
I joined Michelle Haseltine’s #100DaysofNotebooking challenge and wrote about Embrace in my notebook. This challenge is not only a good way to restart a notebook practice, but it connects me to a new community of writers I can “embrace.”
I also received a serendipitous postcard from Irene Latham. The poem just makes me want to embrace her and embrace writing.
Writing in Winter by Irene Latham
Here is a second draft of my Embrace poem:
Embrace says yes to now, holding on tight to this one moment finding a heart full of love.
Embrace is a word of grace, silently listening, open for the world to fill.
Embrace is here for you to welcome, knowing nothing ever stays the same.
I’m gathering posts here for January’s Spiritual Journey One Little Word posts. Scroll down to add your link and read other posts.
Choosing a One Little Word for the year has been a practice I adopted years ago. Sometimes I spend a lot of time mulling over what my word should be. Not this year. My son-in-law Grant has tuned in this practice of mine, and I’ve been doing so much holding of new babies in the last year, he told me he thought my word should be “embrace.” I didn’t give it another thought.
This year of 2020, I will embrace my grandbabies even more. My youngest daughter will be getting married in October, so I will embrace another family connected to our family.
Embrace is related to the word Grace I chose last year. My life is full of love, and love comes from grace. Embrace is a way to be humbly grateful for it all.
There is really no way we can predict what a new year will bring. Some years I choose a word that is a goal, something I want to be better at, but a word like Embrace lets you just be present. Here. Now. Holding on to the ones you love. Acceptance and Grace, wrapped up with a bouquet of roses.
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I am not much of a cook or a baker, for that matter, but I recently had results from a blood test that my cholesterol is high, so I turned to my mother-in-law.
“I seem to remember you made Papa muffins to help Jerry reduce his cholesterol,” I said.
“Yes, he’s the only person I know who reduced his cholesterol through diet,” she replied.
“Can I have the recipe?” Minga (that’s her grandma name) sent me a text with a picture of her recipe card.
Papa died in 2004, so it’d been a while since she had made his muffins, but my daughters all remember them fondly as a treat when they stayed at Minga and Papa’s house.
My first attempt was severely lacking. Once I found the Oat Bran cereal, I wasn’t sure what package meant. Was it like oatmeal that can be bought in individual packets? Thank goodness, Minga is only a text away for consultation.
“No, package means the whole box.”
The liquid to dry parts seemed uneven to me, but I followed the recipe. The muffins were dry and crumbly and difficult to eat.
Around the holiday season, I love pumpkin flavor, so I wondered how they would taste with pumpkin rather than bananas. Moister? I hoped.
A batch around Thanksgiving was good with the added pumpkin, but it wasn’t until Christmas Eve that I perfected the recipe. I only added 1 cup of flour, rather than 2 cups.
Today, New Year’s Eve, the batch is even better. I cut down on cooking time and added vanilla to the wet part. Yum! Yum!
Papa muffins will be a traditional holiday treat!
Recipe for Perfect Papa Pumpkin Muffins
1 box oat bran cereal 1 cup whole wheat flour 2 T baking powder 1 T baking soda 1 t cinnamon 1/2 cup brown sugar (I used organic cane sugar) pinch of salt
Mix together
4 eggs 2 cups skim milk 1/3 cup oil 4 heavy squirts of honey 2 ripe bananas or 1 can pumpkin puree 1 teaspoon vanilla
Mix wet parts and add to dry. Stir. Do not beat. Line and spray muffin tins. Bake at 400 degrees for 16 minutes or until brown.
The Christmas rush has finally settled, and Charlie and I have found solace in the sofa with warm fleece blankets, a cup of tea, and a guilty pleasure rom com on Netflix. I needed this day of rest.
I did spend some time catching up on Cybils reading and doing laundry. There’s always laundry. But for the most part, I’ve taken it easy.
Thinking ahead to the new year coming, I love the idea that there is space for seeds to grow. On the Smack Dab in the Middle blogspot, Deb Calhoun wrote:
“Two days past winter solstice, when the days inch longer and the nights shorter, this is the time when imagination reignites. All that has been hidden, sleeping and growing in the dark Underland, begins to emerge. Tendrils of light shoot up like tiny seedlings poking their heads from the dark. They find light and see what the wind says.”
Deb suggests we pay attention to the budding of imagination and creativity. Whenever I have the time to relax, I feel the energy of creativity. I wish I could cultivate it every day, but when lessons have to be made and the house has to be ready, I get weary and unimaginative.
Today I am off to visit my parents in Mississippi, but before this winter school break ends, I hope I find another day to rest and wait for new ideas to germinate.
The Winter Poetry Swap has arrived. Our friend Tabatha Yeatts matches us up for a rich exchange of poetry inspired gifts. This year I was paired with Tricia Stohr-Hunt. This week I received her gift.
Tricia spent some time on my gift. That impresses me because these days, especially in December, time is precious and small. She cross-stitched my favorite line of poetry from Naomi Shihab Nye. Now to know this, she had to read my blog posts. Then design and stitch.
And to top it all off, she wrote a wonderful golden shovel using the line.
Golden Shovel for Advent
It is not the season of me or I. nor the season of greed and want. It is time for reflection, time to prepare for the guest. We must be ready to reach out to someone, anyone who needs, anyone who asks. Let us draw nearer to what makes us whole. As the year crowns, it is music that fills the air and our hearts with expectation. Stars keep watch. My, how they shine! Rejoice, for the Lord is coming.
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Last week our gifted students in grades 4-6 went on a field trip that incorporated three activities. Each teacher’s group rotated through practicing for the Shadows Christmas play, visiting the Bayou Teche Museum, and going on a Poetry Walk.
Pelicans, a sculpture at Paul Allain’s Architecture office
The Poetry Walk took students through a sculpture garden, bayou side boardwalk, and a pocket park called Church Alley. I wanted the students to experience each space in a unique way. For the sculpture garden, we wrote a simple free verse poem of 15 words or less, along the boardwalk, a haiku form that reflected the theme of nature, and in the alley, a mask poem written in the voice of someone from the past.
At the museum, we learned interesting facts about the Bayou Teche and the founding of New Iberia. Frederick Duperier, a founding father, wanted a pathway from his home to the church, and later, the alley was used by nuns who lived in Mount Carmel, the Duperier’s former home.
Here’s a sampling of poems from my students.
Bayou Teche, a snake slithering its way past us. The Teche silent still.
Breighlynn, Bayou Teche haiku
Walking through an alley a very dark, dark alley to be lit up by a beautiful church. The dark dirt of the alley much darker than I thought but a bit brighter from my very own steps.
The nuns, somber and solemn, pass silently by my form. They are hope, in a dark world.
Madison, Church Alley septercet
eyes big nose as big as an elephant peeper sees everything no matter mouse or bug
Landon, Sculpture poem
On the Bayou Teche pelican in the distance lily pads floating
Maddox, Bayou haiku
We celebrated these small poems with sharing time after each writing time. The students cheered for each other and enjoyed being poets paying attention to common places. Each poem was unique. The whole walk took about an hour with 20 minutes in each site. I recommend creating a poetry walk for your next field trip.
Our Sunday night Poetry Swaggers group is posting today with a challenge from Molly Hogan. “This month, I invite you to reinvent the world around you (or one aspect of it) by shifting your lens to see the beauty in what at first seems to be ugly or unnoteworthy.”
Molly quoted Naomi Shihab Nye who says, “Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us, we find poems.” All we need to do is shift our focus a bit to find beauty in the everyday, otherwise passed-over things.
I pass this dilapidated house often, yet after Molly’s prompt, I noticed the beauty of the plants justing up through the floor boards.
There are signs on the door fingerprints, peeling paint. We’ve been here, so have they- gone now the way of time.
Margaret Simon, draft 2019
Steps to a house in New Orleans. I was struck by the pattern of color in the peeling paint.
The Smell of Morning
Sagging fog, thick on the morning, captures the scent of my walk.
Someone is running the dryer blowing Downy air.
Every morning, he smokes a cigar on his front porch, white rocker, booted feet propped on the railing. He waves and with it comes a pungent smell of burning wood–a home scent.
Beneath my feet, pine needles crunch releasing a breath of Christmas. My mother would gather them to mulch the flower beds for winter.
As I walk, I practice my deep yoga breath, in, hold, out, hold, pausing to savor the ordinary, extraordinary scents of the day.
Margaret Simon, draft 2019
Be sure to visit the other Swaggers today to enjoy more beauty in the ugly.
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 