277: spring is pretty

Visit the original photos here (these are all from my flickr favorites):
1. peonies, in white, 2. Untitled, 3. inspiring me,
4. in the bath, 5. If there's a heaven,., 6. Untitled,
7. IMG_4334.JPG, 8. sweetest sleep, 9. :: ranunculus frenzy ::

Things I'm loving about spring: dirt under my fingernails and strawberries in the ground, the breezes that push curtains open, dog snot streaks along the windows (people are outside to watch!), letterpressed invitations for wine tasting, summer book plans, peonies budding along our fence, eating dinner outside, the way white feels clean again (no more snowy sludge), lilacs in the air, farmer's markets and anticipation of corn on the cob and fresh fruit, honey from the fields, drinks on the porch, the sound of ice cubes in a glass, reading in the grass, long walks with the dogs to the Mississippi, Hay Creek and drenchings from the pups in the backseat, blisters from hoeing from walking from writing, dinner with friends, sleeping beneath a single sheet, curling up against my husband, listening to the hum of the window fan.

166: December List

Links to original photos:

1. pine with ice, 2. winter's return, 3. Untitled, 4. persimmon,
5. roasted tomatoes, 6. Untitled, 7. crochet coasters, 8. pecan pie,
9. baby wristwarmers, 10.sourdough, 11. Resolve to write, 12. 853

Outside, it's that kind of cold that pains you, the sharp stab, the feeling of a whole-body headache. Saturday, our yard was melty, soupy even in the dog slush, and by Sunday evening, everything was wavy clumps of ice, a slickness that has not yet dissipated.

This December, of cold nights and holiday wrapping, I keep turning to:

- The above flickr images, among others, of course, by some people with awfully good eyes.
- Additionally, Shari's ice cracks and frost series.
- Re-joining the Card Society by purchasing many of what will probably be next year's holiday cards. (Too good of a deal to pass up: $175 worth of purchases in her shop, which is, sadly, closing in two days, will give you a free one year membership to the card society, which normally costs $148. OK, ok, so it's not something a graduate student can technically afford, but I absolutely adore her work and have justified it by calling it next year's holiday cards. That, at least, has some ring of practicality to it.)
- Toni Morrison's A Mercy.
- This amazing capture of the riots in Greece.
- This year's holiday cards. (In the mail today!)
- Wool: blankets and sweaters and coats, mostly.
- Advance Reader's copies: working part time seasonal at a bookstore that has such an enormous stock of these is a bit precarious for someone who's attempting to purge a home of clutter...
- Chai. Mmm, how I love thee.
- Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
- Baking bread: Vermont Cheddar, Cranberry, Zucchini...
- Collecting the books of the professors in the program. A winter break project.
- Finishing old projects that have been dramatically and impressively neglected and procrastinated upon. Setting reasonable goals: one day at a time.
- The relief of pine's green in the landscape. Pinecones, swaths of pine boughs, the smell of evergreen in the air.
- The smell of citrus on my hands. Clementine peels on empty plates.

128

Click on the links to see the original photographs:

1. the last of them, 2. pickings, 3. Untitled, 4. blanket for babe,
5. nifty, 6. love for lentils, 7. noknead2, 8. itty bitty sweet ones,
9. tudora, 10. 119, 11. acorns aplenty, 12. pretzelsammy

Created with fd's Flickr Toys.


This October, I have enjoyed:

- the above from my Flickr favorites
- the leaf colors, the way they glow, look lit from within
- baking bread: zucchini, banana, crusty french
- weekend poetry workshops
- meeting Junot Diaz
- listening to books on CD on my commute
- election signs that agree with me
- the last harvest in the garden, turning over compost for next summer
- the kind of running that is still a bit like shuffling, a bit like galumphing
- warm chai tea
- clean cotton sheets
- reading. reading. reading.
- trying to find a way to fit "clotted snow" into a poem
- returning to Michigan, still working on that series of poems
- plans for Thanksgiving
- sleeping in

88

Links to the original pictures (not my own, alas):
1. linen skirt: detail, 2. A Quick Dip, 3. the sea, 4. blueberry peach,
5. Natura Morta, 6. ., 7. Untitled, 8. morning,
9. my mother's ..., 10. i dream..., 11. Untitled, 12. yellow dingy

Lately I have been thinking about:

- Maine. I have never been there, but I am in love with it through image. Ryan bought me a leather bound copy of Thoreau's The Maine Woods for our anniversary yesterday. I think I will read it outdoors.

- The colors of the ocean. I have been enamored since last summer, though the colors are not a part of my landscape. That gray-blue follows me around in my heart. Sometimes we have it here, in the middle of the country--you can see it just after the sun sets, minutes after, when one side of the sky looks like a Maxfield Parish painting, but the other is that slate-ish blue with gray puff clouds near the moon.

- Windows. And light pouring through them. I am jealous of beds and writer's desks that are pushed up against those old, multiple squared windows, the world flush with green outside. Our own are strange, especially upstairs, hanging low to the ground, sashes hanging above them by enough to mask the fact that they are abnormally placed.

- Mostly, writer's retreats. I have never been on one, though I've been fascinated, especially after I went to the Palm Beach Poetry Festival this past winter. And sitting on my grandmother's screened in porch, the lake a roll in the yard away, the canoe spanning the distance, nearly, my laptop clam-shelled open, writing poems about swimming in loose sand and mussel detritus, thinking about holding my grandfather's ashes in my lap that last morning. I'm also thinking about Shari's photograph of the cottage where her mother stayed, and about this Minnesota graduate's retreat as well.

So, you see, I am full of this strange longing, this desire to snap the clam shut, to get myself out to the coast, to palming a mug of chai, to thick blankets slung over my lap and porches and worn gray wood and the waves, those quite crashes and crashes, bringing little bits from the ocean, things I can put into my pockets and line up on the writing desk overlooking the fog.

33: July List

1. i dream of living here, 2. and you live life ..., 3. summer means strawberries, 4. my everyday biscuit recipe...,
5. boiled, 6. Ananda Ashram, Monroe, NY, 7. thursday mornings, 8. 2 or 4,
9. freefall, 10. salmon berries, 11. slices, 12. reconcile

Oh July, with your birthdays, of country and family, of fireworks and warmer days, of diminished thunderstorms and vibrant fruit from the earth, of road trips and battling against the temptation to turn that dial of the AC to on. Of single sheets and just-barely-there ponytails, of dreams of the beach, of nine year dating anniversaries (July 16th, n-i-n-e years of Molly + Ryan), of long sunrays and gardens out of control. These are the things I bring to you, July:

- Listen: Meiko.
- The methodic push-pull of mowing the lawn, fingers and sneakers greener.
- These birds.
- Thunderstorms. Over and over again, I love thunderstorms. And good, clean rain.
- The art of letter writing: yellow owl workshop, port2port card society, pearl & marmalade
- The art of postcard sending: eshu, simply photo, ink + wit
- Eat more Kale. See shirts here, and the Polaroid that drew my attention.
- My new watch. Which, I completely realize, is hilarious that it's themed in this way, especially for me, who hates running, but it's solar powered. And tough. And if you've met me, you know I walk into things a lot, and I like being outdoors. Nature has a lot of trees to hip check.
- I'm in love with these hexagon trees.
- from Jen's blog, Robert & Shana ParkeHarrison photography: wow.
- a return to Portishead
- looking forward to a poetry retreat at the Cloquet Forestry Center
- on the 22nd, Christian will be one month old
- still thinking about the beach... daydreaming, more like
- stripes (navy, gray)
- Reading. Oh, reading, reading, reading. Is there anything better?
- Ryan and I will have been dating for nine years. That's crazy-long.

And because The Current keeps playing this song, it is stuck in my head, though I have to admit, I don't mind too too much: