March SOLC–Day 8
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

“What should I write about today?”

This is a question I ask myself a lot during the March SOLC. I also ask my family–over and over again. These days they tend to treat the question as rhetorical in nature. Ironically, last night my husband actually responded.

“Insomnia,” he suggested.

“Oh, yeah, Mom,” one of my oh-so-sympathetic daughters responded, “You’d definitely have lots to write about!”

So, I’m not sure what time it was when I woke up this morning. Probably sometime between 1:00 and 1:30 am. I’ve learned not to look at the clock in the middle of the night, as somehow not knowing what time it is can sometimes help me to fall back asleep. I guess I avoid the immediate calculations about how little sleep I got, how much more time I have to sleep, etc. That wasn’t the case tonight, though. I lay there with my thoughts jumping restlessly (manically?) from one thing to another.

When am I going to score those Expert Books?How do I respond to that e-mail? Is A really doing okay? I need to talk to H about that possible referral. Maybe I can catch her later today. Shoot! I haven’t called my Dad in over a week. Who in the world called me yesterday from Raleigh, NC? I need to pull out those poetry books today. Is it really only Wednesday today? Taxes!! I wonder how these book clubs are going to work? I’m worried about P and D’s partnership. Will they be able to work together? The heat bill is due soon (almost overdue?)–I’ve got to put a check in the mail tomorrow. Oh, no! I still have that stack of math journals that needs to go home. I really need to get those out today!  What’s up with C? Taxes!!! Report cards are due in just a few weeks! I should really write a couple of comments each night to avoid that last minute crush. Yeah, right. Oh–I have to send out the parent teacher conference notices. What’s that program called again? I need to find those science scores. Where did I put them? I have a bad feeling I moved them to keep them safe. But to where? What is going on at K’s house? How can I help her?……..and on and on and on. You get the idea. Somehow it isn’t the happy little relaxing thoughts that pop into my mind in these wee hours.

So, finally, after maybe 45 minutes or an hour, I gave up and looked at the clock. 2:11 am. I sighed, pushed back the covers, and got up. Grabbing my book off the bed (yes, I sleep with my books), I turned off my underworked alarm clock, and stumbled out of the bedroom. My newest insomnia-combatting strategy is to read in the living room and then try to fall back asleep on the couch for an hour or so before it’s time to get up. We’ll see how that works.

March SOLC–Day 7
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

I often write about how much I enjoy the natural beauty of Maine and my ride to work. My commute is about 25 minutes through the rolling countryside and a couple of small towns of the blink-and-miss-them variety.  I’m especially alert these days for anything that might serve as a seed for a slice. I keep my eyes peeled.

This past Friday as I drove to work, my attentiveness paid off! This bald eagle was perched in a tree directly by the side of the road. It’s not at all unusual to see eagles around here, but they are usually flying high overhead. This one was content to linger at his perch as I snapped picture after picture, marveling at his impressive size, his piercing eyes, his hooked beak. After about 10  minutes, I finally pulled away, feeling thankful again for the beauty that surrounds me.What a great start to the day! 

FYI: I was inspired to do a bit of research (because, hey! I’m a teacher!). Here are some interesting facts I discovered:

• In 1930 a Popular Science article stated that unless drastic measures were taken, it was likely that bald eagles might only be seen in the future on coins.
• Pesticides, habitat destruction and hunting accounted for most of the population decline.
• By the 1970s there were under 30 nesting pairs of bald eagles in Maine. In 2017 there are over 500 nesting pairs!
• This resurgence in eagle population has a downside as it negatively impacts efforts to preserve other bird species such as loons and cormorants.
• Eagle nests are 4-6 feet wide and may weigh up to 1,000 pounds.
• Mature bald eagles have a wingspan of 5 1/2- 8 feet.
• They can live 15-25 years in the wild.

• The bald eagle is the only eagle unique to North America.

March SOLC–Day 6
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

Yesterday morning I had a silent but stern talk with myself before getting out of bed.

Ok, Molly, you are going to get your coffee. You have 15 minutes to check e-mail and then you have got to start working. No excuses!

Everything started out great. I got up, turned on the coffee machine, fed the cats and opened up my computer. I was motivated to get some serious work done!  Then I made a rookie mistake: I looked outside and saw the sunrise glowing through the trees.

Oh! I should head down to the bay, check out the sunrise and take some pictures.

I didn’t even stop to shut my computer. I threw on my jeans and coat, poured my coffee into a travel mug and jumped in the car. I acted like a dog when someone shouts “Squirrel!” Within 5 minutes of the thought occurring to me, I was down at the bay.

The colors were fading a bit when I arrived, but it was still quite lovely. Stepping out of the car, I gasped. In my rush to get down there, I hadn’t realized how brutally cold it was outside.  The car temperature recorded 6 degrees, but the wind was doing its best to drive that number down. Way down! I hunched into my jacket and threw a hat on my head. Determined to enjoy this morning moment, I wandered about for a short time, watching the fluctuating reds of the sunrise weave through the low-lying dark clouds. Ruched ice formed intriguing sculptures along the edges of the water and every so often the ice creaked and groaned with the tidal pull of the bay. My fingers began to ache horribly from the cold and I returned to the car, wondering if they were permanently damaged. After thawing them briefly in front of the heaters, I headed for home, pretending that I was virtuously choosing to cut short my “play” time because I needed to get back to work.

It was cold, cold, cold!

Back home, I refilled my coffee and settled in front of the computer. I spent my allotted time on e-mail and then started to map out plans for the coming week. Yay, me!

About fifteen minutes later, my daughter, home on spring break, came downstairs.

“Hey, Mom, do you want to do some yoga nidra?”

After the slightest hesitation, I responded, “Sure!”

And so it started and so it continued. I paved the road to hell all day long!

March SOLC–Day 5
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

My daughter’s finished collage

Outside, the cold intensifies in the dark. It’s 6 degrees Fahrenheit. Dangerously cold.

Inside, the wood stove pulses out soft waves of heat. Drawn to its warmth, we gather around it, sprawling companionably, playing cards, collaging, and making music.

Outside, an aggressive wind pushes and pulls. Bang! The loose screen door slams against the house and a window rattles in its frame. The trees creak and moan as they bend and scrape against each other.

Inside, we chat idly, snapping cards down on the floor, snipping paper, strumming chords. Every so often the furnace clicks on and the radiators click and tick reassuringly. The washing machine hums softly in the background.

In a sudden flash of awareness, I recognize how precious this moment is.  I pause and try to memorize the details–to capture this small moment in time so that I can fully appreciate it now and treasure it later. This rare moment when two of our three children are at home and the four of us sit inside together, gathered in one room. This quiet time of warmth and companionship to hold close when outside the world is bitter cold and inhospitable. An oasis of peace in the midst of turmoil.

March SOLC–Day 4
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create a supportive community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

Elementary school students are generous and teachers receive many spontaneous and unexpected gifts, from hand-drawn pictures, heartfelt notes and hugs to a well-traveled hard boiled egg swimming in juice in a leaking plastic bag. Once I had a first grade student very seriously present me with a small spring from inside a pen. “You can hang it on your wall,” he suggested. More recently, it took me awhile to figure out that one of my fourth graders was offering me a gift.

I was walking with my  class down the hallway to Library and she chatted away at my side. My attention was distracted by some antics toward the end of the line and I returned my focus in time to hear her say, “So, do you want it, Mrs. Hogan?”

“What?” I asked, at a total loss.

“The sweater, ” she said. Sweater?  I must have looked confused, and she attempted to clarify. “Do you remember that jacket you wore when I read to you yesterday?” she asked.

“Um, maybe,” I said. Jacket, what jacket? I don’t wear jackets. 

 “You know, it was kind of brown and it was soft,” she continued. “It’s kind of like that.” What was she talking about? Do I have a brown jacket? What’s like that?

She looked up at me and asked, “So, will you keep it if I bring it in for you? It’s green.”

I was silent for a moment, thinking furiously, trying to piece a few of these comments together. Do I want it? Sweater? Keep it? Suddenly, I realized what she was talking about. She wanted to bring a sweater from home for me. How generous! How sweet! But what should I say? I certainly couldn’t accept a sweater as a gift!

“Oh, K,” I said, fumbling for words, “That’s so generous of you. You need to keep your sweater though. Someday you might want it for yourself.”

“Oh, no.” she said casually, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, “It’s okay. I don’t like it.”

Ouch!

March SOLC–Day 3

Recent news about the vandalism in the historic Jewish cemetery, Chesed Shel Emeth, in St. Louis, Missouri made me terribly sad. I struggled with this poem and still question whether I should include the third verse or end after the second.

Stones

Once, long ago, a friend told me
that in the Jewish faith
some mourners leave stones
at the graves of their loved ones,
not delicate blossoms
fated to fade and decay
“The stones will endure,” she said.
I understood the allure of the solidity
of granite, quartz and crystal
in the quagmire of grief.
I imagined the healing process
of selecting a rock, one special rock,
for a texture, a color, a shape
or a memory
then gently placing it atop a gravestone
an enduring message of love and
connection

Yesterday I read about vandalism.
In a Jewish cemetery far across the country
someone toppled and heaved headstones,
desecrating with orchestrated hate
I imagined those carefully selected small stones,
tumbling in small percussive bursts
from the top of the disturbed monuments
then rolling along the ground
to rest in mute accusation
at the feet of the vandals
Messages of love unmoored

I yearn to travel to that cemetery and
gather the scattered stones and pebbles
I want to hold them tightly cupped in my hand
until they warm and I can feel my pulse
beating in their core
until I can set them one by one
upon newly straightened tombstones,
imbue them with serenity
and with deepest apology
for the mindless hatred
that disturbed this sacred place.
Each stone a whisper and a wish
Rest in peace.

Molly Hogan (c) 2017

Photo from http://www.myjewishlearning.com/article/putting-stones-on-jewish-graves/

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by the amazing Heidi Mordhorst at her blog, My Juicy Little Universe. Click on the link to enjoy some more poetry!

March SOLC–Day 2
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.

On Tuesday I stole some time. My daughter was home for a few days, taking an unexpected, much needed break from the stresses and strains of her final semester in college. As the mercury rose to an impressive high (48 in February!), she suggested a trip to the beach.

After a winding drive up the coast and down the peninsula, we parked in the empty lot near the old fort at the far end of the beach. Not a soul was in sight. As we got out of the car, we were greeted by the raucous cries of a gull on the edge of a stone parapet and the rush and tumble sound of the crashing surf.  On the beach the tide was high and we set out along the exposed strip of sand, careful to avoid the encroaching waves. Sometimes we talked, but not about anything important, and sometimes we were silent. Sometimes we walked side by side, and sometimes one of us moved ahead or dropped behind. Mostly, we lost ourselves in the beauty of the beach. It was a chance to find bubbles on a leaf, clouds in a pool of water, striated sky and sun beams. It was a chance to be together. A chance to find serenity.

We walked on the beach for an hour or two and then headed home, tired and more relaxed than when we’d arrived. I hope and pray that she and I can carry our beach time with us and tap into it when days seem overpacked with obligations and life seems overwhelming. I hope that we can close our eyes and remember the salty wind on our cheeks, the call of the gulls, the rush and roar of waves and our stolen moment of time–together on a beach in Maine on a February day.

(Photo credit to my daughter)

March SOLC–Day 1
A huge thank you to  Anna, Beth, Betsy, Deb, Kathleen, Lisa, Lanny, Melanie, and Stacey for all that they do to create an amazing community of writers and a safe, welcoming space to write, learn, share and grow.
twowritingteachers.org

Lately, I feel a bit like I’ve fallen into the pages of Marjorie Cuyler’s book, That’s Good! That’s Bad!. This entertaining book has an easy-to-imitate pattern that can inspire some young writers. It’s also a rousing read-aloud and young kids love chiming in on the repeated refrain: “That’s good! No, that’s bad!” Right now, the title also seems to describe my life–For some reason, my experiences seem to be falling into a good news/bad news pattern.

I first noticed myself thinking this way when reading my students’ writing in January and the pattern, or some variation of it, continued through February.

The good news…My students are trying to use figurative language!
The bad news…One of them wrote in her historical narrative that riding on the Oregon Trail was “so bumpy she felt like she was on a roller coaster at Disney!”

The refrain in my head continues: “That’s good! No, that’s bad!”

Do you have any similar experiences? I’d love to hear about them!

This past week I accepted another photo challenge from Kim Douillard of Thinking Through My Lens. She invited participants to notice and photograph ups and downs through their week. With more free time than usual due to frequent snow days and the imminent arrival of winter break, I was in!

First, I looked up because I’m always drawn to the sky. Expanses of trees, clouds, light and color unfailingly grab my attention.  The photo below is a relatively frequent scene as I head down my driveway early in the morning. I love how the dark clouds highlight the colors of sunrise and how the light silhouettes the trees. The contrast between clouds and light reminds me of the value of counterpoints in our lives.

On one of many recent snow days, I spent time watching the snow fall from the gray sky and softly pile on the branches of our birch tree. Later, looking up through my doorway, I was struck by how the icicles cut through the wintry scene. Again, contrast appeals to me –this time between the straight, hard lines of the icicles and the soft curves of the branches.

Before the recent heavy snowfalls, we had a lot of mixed precipitation and ice build up. As usual, my steep, icy driveway has been the bane of my existence. It’s a constant fight to keep enough traction on it for the fuel truck to deliver our heating oil (a necessity during Maine winters!). This winter it’s been especially bad, but there’s always a silver lining if you only take the time to notice. This photo reveals the up of the icy downer–a reflected sunrise.

This past week during our winter break, warmer temperatures and sunny days lured me outside for some walks. The deep tell-tale sounds of a pileated woodpecker whacking diligently at a tree caught my attention. Looking up to follow the sound, I spied a flash of red and spotted him hard at work. Clearly this wasn’t his first visit to this tree! I couldn’t resist stopping to watch his efforts. Later, as I looped back on my walk, I found the woodpecker had moved further up into the tree. (Perhaps he wasn’t too pleased by my lengthy visit earlier.) With the sun behind him, colors are muted in this picture but I was intrigued by his profile with that hint of red, caught in the web of branches.

With warmer temperatures comes lots of melting. Wary walkers need to look down… a lot! Once I looked down, I found it hard to look up again, as the roadside puddles with their varied reflections fascinated me. Shortly after admiring the woodpecker, this view stopped me in my tracks–a mixture of straight lines, circles and the texture of clouds all captured in a transient pool of water. Oh, and there’s even some blue sky! Reflections always strike me as an invitation to enter an alternative world: a portal of sorts. I wonder where this one leads.

Finally, on a late afternoon walk, my daughter and I wandered across a local suspension foot bridge. Swaying slightly above the river, we looked down at the duck and gull activity on the ice below. I’m really not sure why I like this picture so much, but I keep coming back to it. There’s something about the random patterns of ice and water, the bird’s eye view and that brilliant orange splash of the mallard’s webbed feet.  Even as I write about it, I still can’t figure out why it appeals to me so.

So, thanks, Kim, for the invitation! Filtering my daily experiences through the lens of one of your challenges is always an interesting and rewarding experience.  I really enjoyed focusing my camera on ups and downs and hope to participate in another challenge soon!

Morning is the closest time I come to prayer and the time when thanksgiving and celebration seem to rise from me of their own volition.

Morning Song

Oh, how morning fills me!

When the sun trembles
poised on the cusp of day
and the luminescent glow
brims beyond the horizon
then overflows
spilling dawn across the landscape
my cells bend and sway
toward nascent light
and on some blessed mornings
words swell from slumber
to spill onto the page
ink seeping into fiber
coursing through interwoven grains
threading upward
like light spreading at sunrise
as the day dawns
aglow with promise
and possibility.

Oh, how morning fills me!

Molly Hogan (c) 2016

This week’s Poetry Friday Roundup is hosted by Karen Edmiston. Click here to visit her blog and to access links to other poems.