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PF: Gossip at the fence

I never know what will catch my eye when I’m out and about, but overall, I’m much more inclined to take photographs of natural images. In fact, I typically go out of my way to avoid people, buildings, and/or man-made objects. I’ve been known to gripe about people ruining my photo opportunities. (This does not always endear me to friends and family! lol ) There are always exceptions though.

On a long ago drive, this bike and fence caught my eye, and I pulled over to take a picture. (How I’ve managed not to get into multiple car accidents while gawking out the window at birds, scenery, etc, is beyond me!) Recently, when I was rummaging through photos, to curate my gallery show, I revisited this picture. I still loved the lines and the weathered look of the fence and the bike and the way they complemented each other. Looking at the photo again inspired me to write a poem to go along with it, and ultimately, I opted to include both in the show. The show comes down this afternoon, so I’m highlighting this pairing to mark the occasion.

Gossip at the Fence

Bike leans in
shares stories
of long ago wild rides
and windblown trails
of laughter

©Molly Hogan

The Poetry Friday Roundup this week is hosted by Carol L. at her blog.

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Birds…again!

Spring comes late to Maine, but it’s arrived and it’s been SO distracting! The birds are an absolute menace when it comes to getting anything done. Every day it seems like there’s someone new visiting the yard or the feeders. They’re all flashing their colors and singing their songs, and generally putting on a riveting show. Right outside the window! How can I ignore that!? I’m constantly pulled away from inside activities and lured outside to listen and watch all the activity. I’m a willing victim, but it does take a toll on my so-called productivity.

Here are a few of the more exciting recent visitors (clockwise from top left: Baltimore Oriole, Chestnut Warbler, Brown Thrasher, American Redstart, Northern Parula):

The catbirds have been back for weeks now. I’m so fond of them and look forward to their return every year. They’re not exotic or unusual, but I love their jaunty black caps and the sheer exuberance and volume of their various calls. As I was watching and listening to them this morning, I dimly recalled that I’d written about a poem about them before, but I wasn’t sure if I’d shared it. I searched about a bit, and it turns out I had not, so here it is, still in search of a title:

(untitled for now)

How I wish for the grace
and patience of the Great Egret,
sheer, sinuous focus poised
above still waters.
Ruby-throated Hummingbird’s speed
and iridescent flash and dash
exceed my reach,
as do the sassy tilt of thrush’s tail
and its ethereal song.

But oh, the catbird!
Dull grey with somber black cap,
drawn to the orange,
sliced and waiting at the feeder…
This, I think, I can do-
chatter, mew and rasp
find sweetness in my path
and once in a great while,
surprising even myself,
release a torrent
of pure liquid melody.

©Molly Hogan

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Patricia Franz at her blog, Reverie.

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Wishing on a Star

I’m late with my response to this month’s Inkling challenge, as it’s been a whirlwind of a month. I’ve spent a lot of the month getting ready for a gallery show of my photographs with some accompanying poetry. The opening was last night and I’m still aglow from the event and all the friends and family who turned up to support me!

A photo and poetry pairing from the show:

World Turtle

You rise from earth
and bear its weight
Seedlings sprout like antlers
Your eye holds a universe

©Molly Hogan

That being said, I have had almost no time to address Heidi’s playful Inkling challenge for the month. She asked us to: “Celebrate May by writing a poem that Maykes use of the verbs may, might, could, can, ought. “These verbs are all modal verbs, which means that they are generally used in combination with other verbs, and are used to change the verb’s meaning to something different from simple fact. Modals express possibility, ability, prediction, permission, and necessity.””

May and might are words that send me straight back to starlit nights and childhood wishes. Each time I read the list of modal verbs, I kept thinking “Star light, Star bright, I wish I may, I wish I might…” So this morning, I let that guide me.

Wishing on a Star

The deadline’s past–
time’s been in flight!
I’ve cast a line
but words won’t bite.
They keep on whisking
out of sight!

But sun’s a star
and rising bright…
I turn to it
and by its light
speak heartfelt plea
to end my plight:

I wish I may
I wish I might
have a poem
come into sight…

Then I sit down
and start to write.

©Molly Hogan

To see what the other Inklings did with this prompt, click on the links below:
Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Catherine @ Reading to the Core

Poetry Friday is hosted by Rose Cappelli at her blog, Imagine the Possibilities. Be sure to stop by and see what other poetry is on offer!

I’m busy at the gallery today, so I will be delayed in making the rounds. I hope to get around to comment more tomorrow!

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Dipping back in…

This past year, and March in particular, have thrown me for a loop. I haven’t posted since March 31st, the last day of the Slice of Life Challenge. I suspect that might be the longest time I’ve not blogged in years! While I’m not sure I’m ready to fully dive back in, I’ve missed my writing communities. Today, after more than three weeks away and a full week of spring break, I’m dipping my toes in the water.

The Gift of a Hammock

how delightful to swing
amidst fresh air and trees
moving gently with the breeze or
motionless and carefree
open book beside me
content  to the core
keenly aware only of the present

Last Friday and Saturday were warm and delightful. I took full advantage, dug out the hammock, hung it, and promptly fell asleep in the sunshine. Bliss. This week, while thankfully not the snowy and rainy week forecasted, still had temperatures stubbornly hovering in the mid 40s. Sigh… The hammock now looks lonely in the back yard, and Spring feels a bit shy this year.

This week’s Poetry Friday is hosted by Irene Latham at her blog, Live Your Poem.

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SOLC Day 31: Community

March 2026 SOLC–Day 31
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

And so the last day arrives…

I’ve been pondering what I wanted to write on this last day for several days now, knowing that this post would come mid-Parent Teacher conference chaos. I wanted to get ahead, which has been quite an elusive goal of late! I thought and thought. What do I really want to say?

First and foremost, I’m forever grateful for this community of writers and for the ongoing commitment to writing, sharing, and supporting each other. Connecting and reconnecting with each other is such a gift! More than ever, though, my reading and commenting goals this month fell far short of the bar. I wish I could have been more present.

This year, for whatever reason, I have felt slightly removed from the challenge. There are things I intended to write about (that I probably need to write about) that have remained as small seeds tucked in my notebook and unexplored. I haven’t had the bandwidth or energy to really invest in my writing, and often have opted for the easier post. Writing each slice often felt more like checking things off a to-do list than like actively diving into a moment and mining it for meaning. Of course, I had fun writing some slices and seeing how they developed, but that was the exception rather than the rule. My writing felt a bit…well, rote.

Honestly, I’ve had to struggle not to write negative post after negative post. I mean who wants to read that!? My energy and outlook are not where I’d like them to be. I’ve been floundering a bit, trying to keep my head above the water. I keep trying to “go positive”, pull myself up by the bootstraps, etc. Instead, I fear that often I’ve just gone superficial.

I wrote the above portion of this slice yesterday morning. As I slept (and occasionally woke) last night, a few more thoughts drifted their way to the surface. One of them was quite persistent.

Overall, the challenge this time around has been a bit weird for me. I feel like I’ve taken more than I’ve given to this community. So often, I’ve found my daily conversations peppered with “I just read a blog about…” and my thoughts lingered on others’ posted insights, perspectives, experiences, etc. I was entertained, enticed, and enriched by what I read and was also supported by so many thoughtful comments on my own slices.

What I woke thinking this morning is that community involves give and take. Sometimes we hold others up. Sometimes they hold us up. Together, we are buoyant.

Thanks to all of you for keeping me afloat this month. In the future, I hope to return the favor.

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SOLC Day 30: Mystery Solved!

March 2026 SOLC–Day 30
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Earlier this month (here), I caught a quick glimpse of an intruder of the mammal variety. Due to the dim light, I wasn’t sure if it was a raccoon or a porcupine. I saw it head into our defunct chicken coop and intended to check for tracks in the new fallen snow the next day. Like many things these days, I never did get around to that.

Fast forward to late yesterday morning. I was walking out to my car and happened to glance into the backyard. Aha!

It was a porcupine! But was it the same one, or not? Or was it perhaps a newly visiting porcupine? Might the earlier sighting have been of another porcupine or even a resident raccoon who liked chicken coops? Hmmmm….

I returned to the house to get my camera, hoping for a few zoomed in close ups. The porcupine was apparently content with some tender new green grass, so it remained in the same spot until I returned. Then it posed for a few portraits.

It’s pretty cute, isn’t it?

I moved a little closer in and it decided to move it on out. And where do you think it went?

It scrambled across the lawn and straight into the chicken coop.

Mystery solved!

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SOLC Day 29: On protesting, Star Trek, and connecting

March 2026 SOLC–Day 29
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

The crowd was quieter on Saturday. I think it was smaller, too. It felt a bit more like a reflex than an active resistance. Does this even help? I wondered.

I haven’t looked at the numbers yet to see how many people turned up yesterday, but many people I know, who have protested before, opted out this time around. There were many reasons, but I have to wonder if many are simply worn out from this ongoing madness. Nothing seems to help.

A while back, I read an article about how showing up is important, even though it seems like such a small act. The article maintained that the numbers of protesters are noticed by the self-serving, pusillanimous, sychophantic representatives (I may have added a few words there) as they consider their upcoming electoral battles. Remember, they are self-serving. It’s all about them maintaining power. So, even if it seems futile, the author maintained, it is an important thing to do. The numbers carry weight.

As I wrote the word “futile”, it brought to mind the robotic message of the Borg in Star Trek. “Resistance is futile.” If you aren’t aware, the Borg were the enemy of the Federation in the Star Trek universe. They were a collective with a hive mindset, who actively tried to assimilate other cultures/beings. I’m not a Trekkie, but I do know the Borg were ultimately defeated. How?

A limited dive into the internet and all-things-Star-Trek revealed that one thing that contributed to the defeat of the Borg was when some of their drones regained their individuality and rebelled against the hive mindset they were linked into. One can only hope. I suppose this emphasizes the importance of communicating, of connecting with people and sharing ideas and information. Of stepping back from the inflamed rhetoric and trying to relate to one another.

Trump’s actions have always reminded me of another episode of Star Trek. (I swear, I really am not a Trekkie! lol) In this particular one, there’s a god-like being who is toying with the Enterprise, forcing them to follow his will and play war games. At the end, it turns out he’s a young god who, one reviewer commented, “lacks the experience and wisdom to feel compassion for those he hurts or to see beyond his own interests.” Sound familiar? In that episode, his adult god parents arrive to take him home, scolding him, even as he insists, “But I was winning!” Clearly that won’t be happening here.

This post has wandered a bit. It’s representative of my thoughts this morning, pin-balling from one thing to another. Looking for context. Looking for hope. I think back to where I started–with the crowd gathered on the grassy mall of a nearby town. Even though it all felt a bit diminished, I remind myself that there were hundreds of people there. And there are people demonstrating every day in big and small ways. Anytime I drive down the highway, I see signs and people on overpass bridges. “Honk if you want to save our democracy!” Ongoing protest has become a visible part of our current culture.

Yesterday, we all took the time to make signs, to show up, and most importantly to connect with one another in the crowd. Right now, that connection is what I’m holding onto.

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SOLC Day 28: Speak Up!

March 2026 SOLC–Day 28
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

The first time I protested (during this administration), these were my signs:

When I last demonstrated, I knew things were already bad, but I didn’t anticipate how much worse they would become. It’s all so overwhelming. I’m disgusted, horrified and outraged on a daily basis. It’s hard to know what to do, and all too easy to get caught up in my daily life and do very little. I can call my representatives (and I do, though not very often) and I can stand up and speak out. Today I’m doing the latter. Here are the signs I’ll be carrying:

This side of my sign is taken from Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s 2007 poem, “Pity the Nation”. Here is more of it, and a link to the entire poem:

PITY THE NATION

Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them

Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
And whose bigots haunt the airwaves

Pity the nation that raises not its voice
Except to praise conquerors
And acclaim the bully as hero
And aims to rule the world
By force and by torture

On a side note, I am so thankful that I work with young children. Teaching them to be kind and honest little humans is a meaningful task, and one that feels like resistance against the ongoing culture of incivility and eroded truth. I take some solace in that.

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SOLC Day 27: A Kid’s Perspective

March 2026 SOLC–Day 27
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Thanks for this slice’s inspiration goes to someone who earlier this week wrote about asking their first grade students the question, “What’s the hardest thing about being a grown up?” (Yes, I’ve already forgotten who! Sorry! If you read this, please let me know!)

Yesterday morning, we were gathered at the rug for our Morning Meeting, and had just finished our greeting. It was time for our Share. Sometimes I ask a “Would you rather?” question or maybe have them to share a thought or an idea about something. Yesterday, I asked,  “What’s the hardest thing about being a grown up?”

I pulled a popsicle stick and J’s name was pulled to go first. He can be a hesitant participant, but not on this morning.

“Well, if you work in a school, everyone doesn’t be that good, so you have to deal with it and not get much money.” 

I wasn’t sure I’d heard the last part of what he said correctly. “Can you repeat the last part of what you said, J? I couldn’t quite hear you.” I said.

“Teachers don’t get much money,” J1 said.

“Oh, yeah, teachers don’t make any money,” another kid commented sagely. A few more nodded. I shifted uncomfortably.

We moved on, and the next student2 commented, “Well, my dad always says, ‘I don’t like work. I’d rather be with you.’ Oh! and they have to pay taxes.”

We kept moving around the circle. Every student was invested in answering. No one passed.

“Well, kids don’t listen. You need to respect your guardians. That means your parents,” M3. said.

“You have to pay the bills or take care of kids. And you have to go to work, and pretty much a lot of stuff that kids don’t experience.”

“They have to work and can’t ever buy what they want without their kids wanting to come, too.”

“They have to pay for all the fun stuff for their kids.”

“Taking care of kids because your kids are a lot of work,” said R4.

On and on we went, each student taking turns to share their opinions. There were lots of comments about having to work and having to pay for things. It was interesting to hear how often taxes came up. As I said to my husband later that night, “I’m 100% certain our kids would never have had a clue what taxes were when they were in second grade!”

Next week I plan to ask them, “What’s the hardest thing about being a kid?” Stay tuned!

  1. Later that day J was yelling out “Chicken butt!” during a lesson. ↩︎
  2. This is the same student who earlier this month said, “I want to be a beaver when I grow up!” ↩︎
  3. At recess a teacher pulled M aside to help her work through a conflict she was having with another student. In a nutshell, M. said that if someone teaches someone to do something and then they do it incorrectly, it’s the teachers fault. The teacher said, “So, if someone teaches you to write, and you choose to write on a bathroom wall, it’s the teacher’s fault?” “Yes,” she insisted. As you can imagine, this was not the only conflict resolution discussion she’s had during recess. ↩︎
  4. I won’t go into details, but R. definitely knows what she’s talking about on that one! ↩︎
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SOLC Day 26: Missing

March 2026 SOLC–Day 26
A huge thank you to Two Writing Teachers for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
http://www.twowritingteachers.org

Where were they? 

I was totally and utterly discombobulated. 

The day started as usual. I woke early (3:45…sigh)  and got out of bed at 4 am and slid into my normal routines. I grabbed my robe. Went downstairs. Turned the coffee pot on. Poured my orange juice. Fed the cats. Dealt with my Invisalign. Then I went to slide on my slippers and sit down and write. But my slippers were nowhere to be found. 

We wear slippers a lot, especially in the winter. We live in an old house and the air is definitely cooler around the floor. Also, the tops of nails sometimes work up from old pine floors to snag unwary socks. Slippers are always a good idea. Typically, my old and bedraggled slippers sit waiting for me under my desk, like a faithful hound, ready to warm my feet. Sometimes I’ve moved them in the evening and find them in the morning beside my chair, or near the door to the hallway. They’re always somewhere in the family room.  But not this morning. I looked around the room, again and again, but I simply couldn’t find them.

Finally, I shrugged and sat down to write. I started and stopped. Started again. Stopped. I just couldn’t settle. Nothing felt quite right and my feet were chilly.

After a few moment’s of struggle, I gave up and got up to look for my slippers yet again. I glanced all around the room. They had not miraculously appeared. I looked under my chair, under the table and by the door…again. I walked out to the hallway and scanned. I looked in the mudroom. I had a dim recollection of wearing them last night and of taking them off when I went upstairs to get something. I went out to the hallway to check. Nope.

Where in the world could they be!?

I couldn’t believe how much my missing slippers threw me off my stride. I’m sure this says something weird about me, but at this point, I was determined to find them. I keep re-searching, looking in the same places and a few new and unlikely ones, but they were nowhere to be found. Finally, I gave up and sat down to write, but I still felt off, as if part of my brain was still churning trying to remember where I had last seen my slippers. Eventually, I got up again and put on a pair of warmer socks, but they were a poor substitute.

Apparently my slippers not only warm and protect me, but they ground me, too. It’s kind of laughable. Who knew I was that dependent on my slippers!