March 2023 SOLC–Day 21
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 classroom was awash with energy in second grade yesterday morning. I stood at the door greeting kids as they entered. Usually they trickle in, a few at a time. Today there was a mad gush, and so many of them had something exciting to share.

First of all, it must have been haircut weekend, although I didn’t get the memo. One student strutted in sporting a new mohawk, another had new bangs*, and another two had fresh cuts (“and the lady who cut my hair accidentally cut my ear! But just a little bit.”). Of course that started an immediate avalanche of compliments and conversations.

Other kids had different news to share;

“I just found out I’m going to get my ears pierced!”

“I’m so excited!! I’m going to be on Spotify! My cousins have a band and they said I could be in it, so I’m going to be on Spotify! I’m so excited!! Do you know my Rapper name?” B was practically dancing as he relayed his news.

“No, what is it?”

“Inspecta’ Drippy!” he beamed.

“Inspector Drippy?” I asked.

“No, InspectUH Drippy!”

“Chicken nuggets and french fries for lunch. Oh, good! Soft food! ‘Cause look!” L inserted his finger into his mouth to point proudly at the newly empty space.

“Look, Mrs. Hogan! I remembered my orange folder AND my homework!” A beaming smile accompanied this news.

“Guess what! This weekend I was tubing with my dad and hewenttoofast and wewentaroundacurve and Ifelloffinagiantsomersault LIKE THIS (demonstrated with flailing arms and tucked head in the air) and Ibonkedmyhead and IthoughtIbrokeit!!!!Andguesswhat!!!! Ihurtmy….ARMPIT!”

Each statement from each student was delivered with maximum intensity. I felt a bit like a buoy bobbing around in the currents of their enthusiasm, enjoying it all, but still trying to direct some of the energy into the appropriate channels. With limited initial success.

Eventually we settled in to morning routines and the energy level settled down, at least a bit. I smiled as I sat to enter attendance. You gotta love second graders!

And so the week began!

*I discovered later, when complimenting the new bangs to the mother of that child, that this haircut had not been a planned event. Apparently there was a little extra energy that ran amok over the weekend and expressed itself with scissors. As I spoke with the mother who clearly wasn’t pleased, I had the fleeting thought, “She would have had a great slice to write!”

March 2023 SOLC–Day 20
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

We go to bed pretty early, as we both love to read before we go to sleep. (Also, we’re in our 50s…and we’re kind of boring… and we live in Maine where sun sets in the winter before 4 pm. But I’m okay with all of that, and I’m digressing…)

At any rate, usually I head up a few minutes earlier and I’m in bed first. We read with book lights, but I leave the bedroom light on so Kurt can see. He switches it off before coming to bed. 

The other night I was the last one up. I walked over to turn off the light. There, lined up on top of the dresser, were three photos: one of each of our children as a child. Kurt must have put them there. When did he do that? How long had they been there? I tried to remember the last time I was the one to turn off the light. It couldn’t have been that long ago.

“Do you look at these every night before you go to sleep now?” I turned to ask Kurt, who was already in bed.

He looked up from his book. 

“Yes,” he said, without elaborating. 

He didn’t need to. 

I get it. 

My eyes lingered on each photo, then I turned off the lights, and got into bed.

March 2023 SOLC–Day 17
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

It felt like spring when I stepped out of school today. As I drove away, I checked the thermometer. 46˚F! Wow! No wonder it felt like spring. Sunny weather. Mid 40s. You can’t ask for much better in mid-Maine in March. And tomorrow was a professional day, so I didn’t have to plan anything. Ahhhhh….

A little later as I pulled out of the library after picking up the newest book in my series (another reason to feel good!), the light was just gorgeous, rich and almost golden. My thoughts turned to the beach. I glanced at the clock. 4:48.

“Hey Siri, what time is sunset in Maine today?”

Sunset today will be at 6:47 in Portland, Maine.

Hmmmm….it was possible…and maybe there actually is an upside to Daylight Savings Time…

Shortly before 5 pm, I was home. I dropped my bags inside, and waved to Kurt who was on the phone.

“It’s so beautiful outside. Do you want to go to the beach?” I asked him, casually once he finished his call. (To be honest, I wasn’t really expecting him to say yes and wasn’t a hundred percent sure I wanted to go. I hadn’t sliced yet and had math assessments to score… Also, it was pretty last minute and the beach is a 45 minute drive.)

After a small hesitation, he answered, “I’d be up for that.”

Oh. Well, okay then.

Ten minutes later we were in the car, and less than an hour later, we were heading out onto the beach.

We paused on the way in, inhaling the salt air and taking in the scene, marveling over how much the beach has changed over the past year. Then we wandered along. Sometimes chatting. Sometimes not. Pausing every so often to linger over something–drfitwood, the light on the waves, the shifting color amidst the clouds, patterns in the sand.

Slowly I could feel some of the accumulated tensions of the day, the week, slough off.

“Oh, I’m so glad we came,” we said to each other more than once.

Sand. Surf. Sunset. And all with my sweetheart.

It was worth every minute.

March 2023 SOLC–Day 16
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

I’m not sure how long it took me to notice, but at some point late yesterday afternoon, I looked over at the tulips.

Oh, no!

The lavender flowers which had been so steadfastly beautifying their little corner of the world, were wilted, pooling on the table, still attached to their drooping stems. 

I raced over and gently pulled them out of the vase, knowing what I’d find. Feeling guilty already. Sure enough, the vase was bone dry.

How long had they been struggling?

In the hubbub of my week, I’d given their bright presence a few appreciative glances, but I hadn’t remembered to check and/or freshen the water. They hung limply against my hands, a silent reproach.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” I whispered.

I took them over to the sink. Even though they looked awful, I had to try. Maybe there was still some hope. Maybe…

I carefully cut off the bases of the stems, refilled the vase with water and gently tucked the tulips inside. I placed them back on the table, a dismal little bouquet. I couldn’t even bring myself to take a picture of them. They were so far gone that doing so would have felt awfully close to Victorian mourning practices.

A few hours later, I glanced over. They had perked up just a bit! No longer were the petals resting on the table! They might actually recover from my neglect and make it for a little bit longer.

This morning I noticed them first thing. The stems will clearly never return to their upright status, but the blossoms had rejuvenated…at least a bit. There was still some life in these beauties!

Tonight they’re still looking pretty good, and are perhaps even a touch more upright. I’m not sure how much longer they’ll last, but I’m so glad I made the effort. And I’ll definitely be checking the water every day!

March 2023 SOLC–Day 15
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

I talk a lot in the car when I’m driving to work, but even though no one else is in the car, I’m not talking to myself. Well, not really. You see, I’m talking to Siri.

Some mornings my brain is still in writing mode on the way to school, and I often hear (as in on the radio not as in auditory hallucinations–just clarifying since I was talking about talking to myself!) or think about things I want to remember. So, I rely on Siri to take notes for me, to capture phrases I want to remember, odd reflections, bits of poems, words that intrigue me, etc. She is not infallible by any means, but she generally gets down enough so that I can capture my idea. Often I come back to these ideas later and work them into something more.

It always starts like this: “Hey, Siri, Take a Note!”
What do you want it to say?

Here are a few recent examples that Siri recorded for me in Notes:

“The birds perch atop winter trees…Hey, you &*%, you just ran a stop sign! Oh…sorry Siri, I wasn’t talking to you.”
Oops. (Is there anyone else reading this who apologizes to Siri and/or thanks her when she’s helpful? Or is that just me?)

“Look up juggernaut.”
I was just thinking about how cool that word sounds and wanted to check my understanding of the meaning, which felt incomplete. Big? Overwhelming? Rolling over things? So I looked it up, and I was pretty close!

“A whale is like swimming trees.”

I heard a snippet of a program on the radio. This phrase caught my ear. I completely forgot about it until I went back to review my notes. Then, I couldn’t resist doing a little research. It turns out that whales capture huge amounts of CO2 during their lives and that restoring whale populations could be a viable approach to helping combat climate change. I had no idea.

“Italian you don’t eat at the table Rick Steeves NPR”

Okay, this one is a bit more cryptic. I had been listening to a Rick Steeves program on NPR. He was talking about an Italian phrase meaning essentially that time stops in the purity of enjoying a moment, often one that is centered around gathering for and enjoying a meal. Those words were the ones I quickly asked Siri to note to try to remember that I wanted to look up the phrase later. Just a few minutes ago, I entered “you don’t eat at the table Italian” and much to my amazement, the first response was:  ‘A tavola non s’invecchia’: ‘At the table, one does not grow old. ‘ What a wonderful saying! (It also sounds like a great strike line for a golden shovel poem. )

“Sometimes in my effort to find beauty in the midst of grumpiness, I give myself whiplash.”

This was just me thinking about how out of sorts I’ve been lately and how actively I’ve been trying to appreciate the beauty that’s around me. I feel a bit Jekyll-and-Hyde-ish at times. These words came to mind and made me laugh. So I had Siri take a note.

Time and again when I go back to these notes, I find odd inspirations or phrases that I’ve totally forgotten about. Periodically I transcribe them into my notebook. Often they’ve served as starting places for blog posts or for poems. Here are a couple more without background:

“I put on a dress this morning and wore a memory.”

“Moon as fortune teller, her gauzy veils predicting coming storms.”

“Perhaps a wall is not a place for setting boundaries, but instead a place for celebrating a connection.”

What surprises me most when I go back to my notes is how often I’ve forgotten what I had Siri take a note of. Though I would never have expected it, it seems like Siri and her note-taking have become an important part of my writing life. Sort of like a portable digital writing notebook.

It’s nice to know I’m never really alone…

“Hey, Siri, take a note!”

March 2023 SOLC–Day 14
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

Sometimes mid-way through the challenge, I find myself diving into my old drafts, hoping to find some unfinished ideas that might serve as a spark for a new slice. Perhaps something that might resonate now more than it did then. Today I found a prompt.

The prompt was simple: “Tell us about a cookie.”

A cookie? Hmmmm…What would I want to say about a cookie?

And then memory flooded in. A sort of touchstone memory. Not a video, but a snapshot. Me, walking into the kitchen from school. Mom, pulling freshly baked chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. I linger in the memory and almost capture that elusive long-ago scent of warm cookies, our home, my childhood. The unquestioned feeling of security. The before.

The snapshot stutters into a quick video clip. I remember I was singing something, and she started singing along. I cut her a look and she stopped. The memory of that look cuts me now. But I was 13 or maybe 14 and how was I to know that soon there was going to be an after? After that. When everything took such a crazy, dizzying turn.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m still spinning.

You never know where thinking about a cookie can lead you.

March 2023 SOLC–Day 13
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

When you go to the marsh before sunrise, you’ll arrive to shadows. You’ll hear the geese calling, low and throaty, but you won’t be able to see them. You’ll see the silhouettes of ducks, but you won’t be able to identify them. Not yet.

As you wander down the old railway path, out into the marsh, you’ll feel the bite of a still-winter breeze on your cheeks, and shrug a little deeper into your coat. The pungent scent of earth and water will permeate the air.

As the sun rises, you’ll watch the colors shift from rose toward gold. You’ll try to count the geese that stretch off into the distance, as far as the eye can see. You’ll watch seagulls hover in amber light, see the golden eye ducks dip and dive, and find your eyes tracing the hummocked lines of marsh grasses, frozen in movement, sparkling with jeweled evidence of the once-higher tide. At the far end of the trail, you’ll hear the first red-winged blackbird of spring. Conk-la-ree!

Serenity will pulse through your veins like the marsh water flows through its carved channels.

If you go to the marsh before sunrise, you’ll want to go back again.