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SOLC Day 11: Trying to Love Winter

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 11
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 trying to love winter. (And for those of you in southern climates, yes, despite today’s balmy (high 40s) temperatures, it’s pretty much still winter here!) Most of the time I do, but this year it’s felt a bit harder.

I keep telling myself that winters are wonderful! I mean, there’s so much to love! At any time, an ice storm can transform the garden into a wonderland. On cold mornings the windows erupt into filagrees of frost. There’s the geometry of forming ice, the dazzle of dripping icicles, and the perpetual wonder of a fresh snowfall. I want to focus on those things.

And just when I think I’ve got the hang of it again, there’s another subzero day with gusting winds and I’m back inside, looking out the window and wishing winter away.

I tell myself I shouldn’t wish it away. Winter’s a time for slowing down and getting some respite from the rush-rush-rush of warmer weather. It’s a chance to idle back and not feel even remotely guilty about spending a day by the fire curled up with a book. There are fewer pressing chores: There’s no lawn to mow or garden to weed. (I’m willfully suppressing thoughts of fetching firewood, shoveling, etc.) All the outdoor projects are on hold. It’s like a mandated break, so why not take advantage of it?

Also, the trees are magnificent in winter. They form dark stripes across fresh snow. Every graceful bend and twist shows, especially when lined with a frisson of fresh snow. The birds (those that are still hanging around) are clearly visible on their perches, and the sunrise shines right through intersecting branches. In summer everything is dense and hidden, and let’s face it, summer can get a bit over the top with all that color and the air suffused with the dense green of growing things. Winter offers more subtle rewards.

So, I’m trying to love winter…

but it isn’t always easy.

(Pssstttt–It also doesn’t help when my southern friends mention all the warmth and blooming going on down there.)

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SOLC Day 10: The Gift of Daffodils

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 10
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

Yesterday’s purchase brings this morning’s pleasure and a spontaneous acrostic poem.

Dancing daffodils greeted Wordsworth
all at once along a bay,
fluttering sprightly in the breeze, in
feisty, dancing waves.
On my own table a host of
daffodils blooms in merry profusion, an
illusion of spring, their
luminosity such a generous gift, as
snow falls lightly outside

©Molly Hogan

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SOLC Day 9: Morning at the Marsh

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 9
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 think I’m going to the marsh tomorrow,” I mentioned to Kurt as we went to bed last night. “I haven’t been in ages.”

Then I woke today and checked the forecast again. Windy?! Feels-like temperature of 15˚F!? Ew. Did I really want to go that much?

The marsh is about a 45-minute drive from me, and during the school year, I can only go on the weekends. If I didn’t go today, it would be another week before I could. Ugh. I hemmed and hawed a bit. Should I go? Should I not? I checked the forecast a few times, but it stayed the same. (Go figure!) Finally, I decided to stick with my plan, bundled up and set off.

I felt lighter as soon as I was underway. I never regret taking the time to go to the marsh. The light is stunning, and I always aim to get there before sunrise so that I can watch the day awaken. I get into a flow of walking, noticing, stopping, and photographing. Time slips by unheeded. I’m convinced that I breathe better there.

This morning was no different.

Here are a few photo highlights from my time there today, some of which are welcome harbingers of spring!

What a way to start the day!

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SOLC Day 8: Whiplash

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 8
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

You might think this title refers to the insane contradictory edicts issuing forth daily (hourly?)  from our capitol. 

It does not. 

It could instead, refer to the contortionist efforts I’m making to stay emotionally healthy and civically balanced in these times. How I literally yank myself mentally from outrage and despair at the news to push myself to notice bird song, cloud formations or an interesting play of shadows. 

Nope. 

Instead, it refers to how I woke this morning thinking about a student. Yesterday, I’d watched her in her book club while she was discussing characters in her book. I saw how she’d jotted down her thoughts and ideas as she’d read, and how she turned back to her book for evidence to support what she was saying to her group. I thought about how much this child has grown this year. How she’s become someone who is now leading by example, instead of someone noted in Guest Teacher plans as a student who “needs frequent check-ins to make sure she understands and is following directions.” I made a mental note to e-mail her mom and let her know. I love sending positive e-mails!

And then I thought back to an e-mail I sent yesterday afternoon to some parents–an e-mail expressing concern about this student’s increase in dysregulation this week. About how she’d struggled to manage her body and voice in expected ways. I’d asked if there was anything going on at home or if they might have some insights. But, with a pit in my stomach, I realized that I’d been in a rush to communicate at the end of a long week. I hadn’t taken the time to note again the strengths this student brings to our class. I could have framed my words better, emphasizing collaboration and sharing ideas for how to support her in being successful at school. In retrospect, my e-mail was relatively short and unbalanced. It wasn’t awful, but it could have been more nuanced, and it may well have landed heavily. I know better and I should have done better. Through experience, I’ve learned to wait to push send on tricky e-mails. Often a new day helps me see how to finesse my words and couch my message in the best terms. But, on Friday I forgot.

So, it feels like a whiplash kind of morning.

Usually, I don’t open my work computer until Sunday, but clearly I have two e-mails to write. 

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SOLC Day 7: A Hermit Crab Poem

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 7
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
This post serves dual purpose today as it’s also a post for the Poetry Friday Roundup. You might want to check it out. It’s another fabulous writing community.

This month it was my turn to pose a challenge for my writing group, The Inklings. I suggested that we try writing hermit crab poems. These poems are poems that take another structure, like a recipe or a want ad, and create a poem within that structure. As one website put it, “Hermit crabs are known for creating inventive homes in all sorts of surprising spaces and containers. As writers, we can use the containers of other types of writing to form inventive poetry!” People do some really crazy creative things with hermit crab poems and I’d been wanting to try one for some time, so, I inflicted my wish on my writing group. I hope they had fun!

Of course, once you set a challenge, you also have to complete it. Time passed…things got busy…more time passed. Then I sat down this past weekend, determined to create my poem, or at least begin. I hadn’t written anything yet, but I’d already been thinking a lot about it. I knew I wanted to use a seed catalogue format. I also knew I wanted to write something politically pointed. Finally, I was wanting to play with Canva a bit more.

So, I looked up seed catalogues, got some ideas for the basic format, and started writing. I opted to focus on Democracy, something that appears to need some significant nurturing and grassroots support right now. First, I created a list of common categories (light, water, etc.), and then tried to figure out how to adapt them to my topic. I really enjoyed the mental exercise of trying to find the overlap between my topic and seeds within the form I’d chosen.

I wish I’d had more time to play around with a prose poem introduction, but maybe that’s something I come back to. As it is, it doesn’t feel totally poetic, but I had so much fun with the process, that I decided I didn’t really care. (Poetic license not to be poetic, maybe?) Also, sometimes you just have to cross your fingers and put what you have done out there, and trust it will land in fertile soil. So here’s my hermit crab “poem”:

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by fellow Inkling, Margaret Simon. If you want to check out how she handled the challenge visit her website, Reflections on the Teche. You’ll also find links to lots more poetry goodness there. Click the links below to see what the other Inklings did with the hermit crab form:
Linda @A Word Edgewise
Mary Lee @ A(nother) Year of Reading
Margaret @Reflections on the Teche
Heidi @my juicy little universe
Catherine @ Reading to the Core (may be opting out this week)

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SOLC Day 6: Out of the Mouths of Babes

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 6
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 stood on the pavement on the playground, scanning the buzz of recess activity, and talking with my colleagues. Kids were racing about in various tag games, digging and building in the snow, and playing soccer on the plowed basketball court. There were more kids hanging from the monkey bars, swarming over the pirate ship, and climbing the giant web.

“Mrs. Hogan?”

I hadn’t even noticed Z. approaching me.

“Oh, hey Z, what’s up?” I responded.

“Do you know how people leave trash at recess?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I replied, “It’s a bummer, isn’t it?”

“Well, I picked some up,” she said.

“That’s great. Thanks, Z.”

She nodded and then continued, “And you know what I wish?”

I paused, thinking for a moment. She probably wishes people would just put their trash into the garbage cans! I thought about guessing that, but decided to play along.

“No, what?” I responded.

“I wish that when I touched the trash, I could magically turn into a janitor.”

Well, I was NOT expecting that.

“You want to turn into a janitor when you touch the trash?” I repeated, feeling the need to confirm that I’d understood correctly.

“Yeah. I could stay outside all day long and clean up the trash. And I’d have a shirt and do you know what it would say?”

“No, what?” I asked, waiting with bated breath to hear the next twist in this conversation.

“It would say: I’m only eight and I can clean up trash.”

“Well, that sounds like an amazing shirt,” I said.

“Ok, bye,” she said suddenly and just like that she skipped away across the playground and was gone.

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SOLC Day 5: In Slice Mode

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 5
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

During the Slice of Life challenge,  I feel like I have antennae, and they are forever quivering, searching for a hint of a topic. I’m constantly thinking, “Could that make a slice?” “Oh, how about that?” Just yesterday morning, I got in the shower and thought. “Hmmmm….could I slice about showering?” As I scrubbed, I pondered. My brain drifted around, suggesting topic after topic and we had a lively conversation. 

Brain: Well, this shower feels amazing! You could write about being thankful for indoor plumbing and the warmth of a shower on a cold winter morning.

Me: Um. No. 

Brain, again: OK…let me think….Oh! You could write about living on a boat and how amazing the infrequent showers felt.  

Me: Maybe….but nah, I’m not really feeling that.

Brain: shower…shower…shower…Hey! Couldn’t you write about how you used to scrub a portion of the shower walls every morning before showering, in a perpetual cleaning cycle.

Me: Oh yeah, scrubbing a little bit every day was the only way I got the job done! Do you remember how that came up in conversation with W. (my principal) once? I think we were talking about tackling big jobs in little pieces. But then, a few weeks later, he mentioned thinking about me cleaning my shower. And ick…even though I knew what he meant…well, that  just felt… well, awkward. I mean I really didn’t want him thinking about me in the shower! Actually, come to think of it, now that I am thinking about it, I don’t really want anyone to imagine me in the shower. 

Brain, on a roll now, being a bit pedantic: Well, if you’re going to talk about showering, you should remember to use sensory descriptions. 

Me: Well, …
Brain, excited now and interrupting!: Oh, I know! You could tell them to imagine your head on Bo Derek’s body! That would be funny!

Me, smiling: Well, that movie reference will definitely add some wrinkles to their imagination! Most of them will probably never even have heard of it. Also, is there even a shower scene in 10? Have we even watched that movie?

Brain, in full swing now: Oh! I know! I know!

(Side note: If my brain were embodied, it would be hopping up and down right now. But, wait a sec….in one sense, my brain actually is fully embodied, isn’t it. Weird!)

Brain: How about some sort of Psycho scene?

Me, fully entertained, but wresting control back from Brain, who has truly gone off the rails: Wait, what?! Enough! It’s time to get to school. Don’t worry, we’ll think of something eventually.

And look, we did!

Also, yeah, this might just be the weirdest slice I’ve ever written, but that’s truly what it’s like in my brain these days with me and my brain in full slice mode!

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SOLC Day 4: We coulda been contenders!

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 4
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

This is a variation on a common scene in our household.

I’m standing in the kitchen, looking at my phone. I call into the family room, “Hey, Kurt, do you know the name of that bird?”

There’s a long pause, then…”What bird?”

“You know. The one that comes out in the spring. At night. Or at least at dusk. And I can hear its call and you can’t.”

I move into the family room. Kurt just looks at me.

I try again.

“You know! That really cute bird…”

He shakes his head, still not sure what I’m talking about.

“It’s so cute! You know! The one that sort of dances when it moves. Like its body moves, but its head stays still and it’s so funny looking. It bops along…” I move my arms a little bit to demonstrate. Entirely ineffectually. (Also, I don’t think he’s even looking.)

“You know!” I insist. (side note: For some reason, despite all evidence to the contrary, I seem to feel that if I just say “you know” enough, he will.)

“I don’t know….” he responds. (See! It doesn’t work!)

I then remember I’ve been holding a phone with a picture of the dang bird on it all this time. I walk over and show it to him.

“Oh! A woodcock!” he says immediately.

“Yes!” I say triumphantly, feeling victorious in our mutual victory.

And then I have a sudden realization.

“OMG, Kurt! Do you remember that game show? $10,000 Pyramid? The one where there were mystery words and one person gave clues, but they couldn’t use the actual words, and the other one had to guess the words?”

“Yeah,” he says, again looking a bit mystified.

“Well, we would be sooooo good at that game. That’s what we do all day long every day! We give clues to try to find a word we can’t think of! We’re naturals!”

Kurt laughs, then pauses.

“There’s one problem with that though, Molly.”

“What?” I ask.

“Well, we have lots of practice with giving clues, but to win that game you had to be able to come up with the actual words they were looking for.”

Oh.

Good point.

Addendum: And now a little bonus for you, because everyone should experience the joy of watching a woodcock dance:

I’ll leave it to you to imagine what my imitation looked like.

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SOLC Day 3: Morning Walk

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 3
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

Yesterday my friend, Margaret Simon, wrote about her early morning walk, and I knew immediately that that was what I would write about today. Unlike Margaret, I don’t take walks before school during the week, nor do I meditate. My walks tend to happen early on weekend mornings. Most often they involve sunrise and photography, which means they are more like saunters than power walks. Some of them become more about standing still than about moving.

Yesterday morning, even though I knew it was cold outside, I opted to head out to the local river I drive over every day on my commute. Most days while rushing to work I wish I had time to stop and take a picture. Most days I’m already feeling the pull of too much to do, and don’t stop. Yesterday, with the generosity of Sunday morning time on my side, I hoped for some rising mist from the river, a burst of brilliant colors at sunrise, or some other photo-worthy moment.

As it turns out, the morning was not particularly spectacular, unless you were talking about the wind and the cold, which were out in full force. Still, I parked by the river and walked out onto the bridge, getting buffeted by gusts of biting wind. Ice and snow covered much of the river below me. The sky lightened in the east with no dramatic prelude to dawn, just a steady color change. The wind shoved me again and again and sent scrolls of scrawling ripples down the river. By the falls upriver, the valiant small tree, rooted amidst the rocks, defiantly steadfast through all seasons and flood and drought, still stood fast. Way downstream, some sort of duck was busy dipping and diving into the water. A leaf scuttled across the bridge.

I was freezing and my fingers ached, but I was also breathing in the frigid air, feeling the moment flow around me, feeling the sting of cold on my cheeks and smiling.

Margaret included a poem with her post, a lovely invitation and celebration. I thought I might do the same, to try to capture some of my morning “walk”. My first poem came out like this:

OMG! It was cold
really cold
dang cold
COLD!!!

Given Margaret’s mentor poem, I figured I could try a little harder. I’m also trying to channel positivity into my days, and even though the day wasn’t a dramatically beautifully one, my time outside was, as always, deeply fulfilling.

Daybreak

On the river, wind gusts sketch madly.
The water shivers with ripples.
Tree limbs scratch at the white sky.
Despite the chill, the sun
continues to rise,
to face down the
relentless
brutal
cold.
Each
sunrise
offers hope
for a fresh start.
Possibility
lingers every morning.
Even in the aching cold
there’s an insistent thrum of life
beating at the heart of each new day.

©Molly Hogan




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SOLC Day 2: Choose your words wisely

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March 2025 SOLC–Day 2
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 were in New Orleans last week. Our visit, unfortunately, coincided with that of a polar vortex. Even though we live in Maine and are used to the cold, we struggled to get warm. The wind gusted, the air was damp and heavy. We didn’t have enough layers. Still, we managed. More or less. By choice, we spent our days outside, walking the streets and soaking in the NOLA culture.

As we walked and walked, we complained now and again about the unwelcome cold. We also passed so many unhoused people in the streets, huddled against the unexpected and biting cold. We worried and wondered about them. Mostly, they were silent. Sometimes they asked for money. When that happened, we’d try to make eye contact, say, “I’m sorry” and keep on walking by. Guilt lay heavily on my shoulders each time. For not doing anything for them. For being on vacation. For being warm while they suffered from the cold. I compared my good fortune to their situation.

Then one morning, I saw a woman ahead of us on the sidewalk. She was bent over and talking into a sort of teepee of blankets and cardboard erected around someone. Did that person answer? I couldn’t quite hear. After a moment, the woman put something down on the pavement. A hand reached out and raked it in. Was it money? Food? I couldn’t be sure. Then the woman straightened and turned. “Happy Mardi Gras” she called back as she walked away. From the makeshift shelter, the words floated back to her, “Happy Mardi Gras.”

I can’t quite parse it all out yet, but this moment has replayed again and again in my mind. Was this woman a local or a tourist? I had no way of knowing. She was simply a woman who took the time time to stop and connect. She didn’t just give something, but she stopped to talk. I’ve heard her parting words again and again. “Happy Mardi Gras!” and then the disembodied response, “Happy Mardi Gras!”

I’m embarrassed to admit that it would never have occurred to me to say this. My mumbled “I’m sorry’s”, although well-intentioned, simply emphasized the difference between me and the unhoused. This woman’s words underscored their common experience–emphasizing unity rather than separation. Her words were a recognition of kinship–that no matter what else might be true, both of them were in this shared space and time of celebration.

“Happy Mardi Gras.”

So simple. Yet so profound.

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