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Reality Settles Back In

I spent the past 2 1/2 weeks traveling in Iceland and Wales We returned home late on Saturday night and have been gradually settling back in. I love traveling and appreciate how it shakes up my complacency. Traveling to new places teaches me so much. It expands my thinking and also changes how I see my own world when I return. It helps me imagine possibilities and alternatives.

Yesterday morning I looked through my photos while sitting in my own chair in my own living room. I was happy to be home and not living out of a suitcase, but already felt our travel experiences shifting into the surreal. Did we really go there? Did we see that? Did we do that?

Everywhere we traveled, people were friendly and helpful to us. “Where are you from?” they’d ask, and our response was always the same. “We’re from Maine in the States, and we’re really sorry.” Without exception, they said that everyone they met from America said the same thing.

When we were in Iceland on a walking tour of Reykjavik, our guide said to us, “There is only one place in Iceland where you will see armed guards. Where do you think that is?”

“The bank,” someone called out.

“The airport?” I guessed.

“No,” he replied. “At the American Embassy.”

Sit with that for a while.

One day, after our standard response, a Welch woman asked us, “How did this happen?”

We didn’t even begin to know how to answer.

“Please,” she said, “You have to do better.”

Now, back home again, travel-weary and enriched, I scroll through the photos, selecting which ones to share. How can I capture all that we saw and experienced and thought as we wandered through these new landscapes? Geothermal fields, geysers, lupines, puffins, majestic cliffs, hedge rows, castles, mountains, etc!

Then the news came through: ICE agents had shot a man in Biddeford, Maine.

Biddeford, Maine is where I attended UNE for my teaching certification. It’s where I sometimes go to get amazing bagels. It’s where I travel to look for snowy owls in the winter, and it’s been known to have some interesting ice formations on the river. Now it’s known as the newest spot where ICE agents have murdered someone. The man, Joan Sebastian Guerrero, died. He was murdered. His child was secure in her carseat in the backseat. He wasn’t even the man they were looking for. He was here, legally, heading to work. Apparently his last words were, “I tried to stop.”

I wish I could say this is what feels surreal, but it feels all too real.

My God. We have to do better.

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Strawberry Picking

We get there shortly after 7 am and already the fields are dotted with enthusiastic pickers. The sky arcs blue overhead and birds call from the surrounding trees. After a quick stop to ask where we should pick, we head over to a likely spot. Soon we are squatting between rows of berries. Our feet sink into the soft earth. I squat and reach in between the leaves, brushing them back and forth searching for sweet, red strawberries.

“I always think of Jamberry when I’m picking,” I comment to Kurt soon after we start, “but I can never remember how it goes.”

We throw out a few guesses at lines, in fits and starts, trying to latch on to the rhythm…

“Boomberry! Zoomberry!”

“What a jam jamboree!”

We never do find it, but enjoy the effort and sharing the attached memories of long ago book reading and berry picking with our children.

Berry picking is as much about picking and sharing memories as it is about picking strawberries. It’s sort of Zen–quiet, voices murmuring, the soft thunk of berries into our containers, occasional laughter, bird calls. The sun warm on our shoulders. Soon, with our hands busy, our minds still. We lapse into comfortable silence. Once in a while, we say something profound, like:

“Oh, here’s a beauty!”

or “Look! This one’s the Queen Strawberry!”

Soon my hands and wrists are drenched with the chill of morning dew. Every so often I pick a strawberry that is already warm from the sun. A little solar powered juice factory. The contrast between cool, dew-soaked hands and the warm flesh of the berry, captivates me. I let these berries linger in my palm for a moment. Roll them back and forth, savoring their gentle heat. I mention this to Kurt.

“I feel a blog post coming on,” he says.

I laugh.

He knows me well.

After we get home, I make batch after batch of strawberry rhubarb jam. Lulled by the sun and the good vibes, we overpicked. It’s a good problem to have.

Later that afternoon, when I’m holding my four-month old grandson, I lean in close to him and whisper, “And when you’re bigger, I’m going to take you strawberry picking and we’re going to make jam!”

And the next day, I label all the lids and put the cooled jam jars into the pantry cupboard. Each one contains a feast of sweet berries and memories, and the promise of more to come.

I make a mental note to look for our copy of Jamberry, or to order a new one.

I’ll be needing it.

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PF: Inklings Challenge

This month’s Inklings challenge was from Mary Lee. She asked us to find a comment on one of our blog posts and to fashion a poem from it. I loved this idea, and immediately began considering comments as seeds for poems. Such fertile ground! In the end, I opted to use part of a comment that Patricia Franz made on one of my posts. She wrote: “Camera in tow, I stop for moss, for light; this morning it was antelope bitterbrush, its soft, shy yellow flower.” I chose to spin off the beginning of her line.

As day breaks

I stop for moss, for light;
this morning it was plum blossoms
with petals like pale butterflies
aflutter on branches
lit by rising sun

I lean in
keen to focus
on the blossoms so clear
delicately etched
across a canvas
of tender verdant leaves

light scatters
the day cracks open
but gently
like a chrysalis
splitting
or a soft exhale
after one’s breath
has been held
just a bit
too long 

©Molly Hogan

If you’re interested in reading what the other Inklings did, check out their sites here:

Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche (I believe she’s on a family jaunt and opting out this month, but you won’t regret stopping by her site anyway!)
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Catherine @ Reading to the Core

This week’s Poetry Friday is hosted by Mona Voekel at her blog.

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PF: Pantoum

There aren’t many things that land in my Inbox and that I read consistently, but Pádraig Ó Tuama’s Sunday post is one of them. This week he announced it was Pantoum Sunday and invited readers to join in and write a pantoum. He offers a wonderfully accessible template, which I’ve used before. This past weekend he added prompts for each line. If you’re interested, you can read more here. I played around with the prompt and wrote two pantoums. Both are still drafty, but here’s one of them:

Pantoum

Today is all golden tree tops and turbulent clouds
and I find myself wishing it away
Although yesterday I watched storm clouds mass and spit
As I write, I try to find my way to the core

Still, I find myself wishing it away
When I was younger, I tried so hard to fly
Now I write to find my way to the core 
I didn’t realize that flight insists on a landing

When I was younger I tried so hard to fly
but my feet never left the ground
and I didn’t realize that flight insists on a landing
though once I had a dream that I soared

Anyway my feet remain grounded and
yesterday I watched storm clouds mass and spit
and remembered I once had a dream that I soared
Today is all golden tree tops and turbulent clouds

©Molly Hogan, draft

This week’s Poetry Friday is hosted by Mary Lee Hahn at her blog, A(nother) Year of Reading.

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Name That Tune

Kurt, my husband, loves music and is appalled by my pervasive inability to name songs and artists. So, he likes to torture me, or at least remind me of my weakness.

“I’ll give you $20 if you can tell me who sings this song,” he’ll say. (Well, that’s what he used to say. Recently (maybe it’s the economy?), he’s been omitting the cash offer.)

As I’ve told him many, many times, I do not enjoy this game of his. It makes me feel frustrated and incompetent.

So, imagine my delight when my school started a sort of “Name that Tune” Fridays this year. They play a snippet of a song over the PA system before announcements. The winner is the first one to e-mail the Assistant Principal with the title of the song and name of the artist. Every Friday, as I fight to hide my negative feelings about this whole weekly triggering experience, my students clamor for me to get ready. I’m pretty sure they are as disillusioned in my abilities by now as Kurt is, but they’re much more optimistic. (Delusional? Nicer?)

“Are you ready, Mrs. Hogan!?”

“You might get it this time!”

I would say that 80% of the time I’ve never heard the song, or at least don’t remember doing so. The remaining times I might recognize it, but I don’t know either the title or artist or both. Recently, the office has begun sharing the winner’s name and the song and title in a follow up e-mail. As you might guess, my name has yet to appear. But, then, there was one recent Friday…

The warning came for teachers to get ready. I sighed and headed over to my computer, pasting a fake enthusiastic smile on my face. Music soon filled the room. The kids immediately abandoned their morning work and got up to dance.

“Oh! Wait! I know this one!” I said, cocking my head and thinking hard.

My students started jumped up and down in excitement, calling out encouragement and some random guesses.

Quickly, I typed in the song name, then hesitated…Ugh! Who sings this!? Who sings this!?…Inspiration struck and I tapped at the keyboard and sent:

“Roar, Katy Perry “

Yes! I did it!

The kids and I celebrated my potential win with a few dance moves, pondering aloud what the prize might be. All of us were a bit dazzled by the fact that I actually knew the song! Then we (sort of) settled back into the morning routines and got on with our day.

I left work early that day to head to Boston, and forgot to check my e-mail. On the way south I couldn’t help but wonder, Was I the first to respond? Did I win this time? I felt pretty good about my chances, but since I don’t have my work e-mail on my phone, I couldn’t check.

Sunday night as I prepped for the coming week, I opened up my work computer. There was the e-mail from the office! Feeling excited, I clicked to open it:

“Friday’s song: Sara Bareilles, Brave”

Wait! What?

I read it again. And again. Then it sunk in, and I just laughed and laughed and laughed.

As you might have guessed by now, my name still has not appeared on the Winner’s List.

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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.