I wasn’t going to Slice today. I wasn’t going to choose a word for 2023. I wasn’t going to do anything other than dig into my notebook after not spending much time with it over the last few weeks.
After a lengthy deep dive during this evening’s weekly Teach Write community write on ZOOM, I was cold and my fingers became numb. (Sure wish I’d put the heat on in that room earlier!) I put my purple Inkjoy down and took a break. I clicked over to TWT to see if there was a prompt or inspiration from today’s host or if anyone’s Slice caught my eye. And there they were, one after the other. Slice after Slice with OLW in the title.
I wasn’t going to choose a word for 2023. Not for any particular reason other than I didn’t feel inspired to do so. But then I thought, if I was going to choose one, what would it be. 2022 was a rough year. Enough to fill the pages of a notebook or two with the roller coaster ups and downs of 12 very challenging months for me and my family. My one regret? That not much got written other than what spilled onto the pages of my notebook.
I rarely Sliced. I wrote hardly any poems. I made next to little progress on my picture book manuscript. I want a 2022 do-over! I need a mulligan. I need a second take, another chance.
“RESET,” the muse on my shoulder whispered. Whoa! Big Magic happened in true Elizabeth Gilbert style. It’s a good thing I was listening.
Reset. That will be my OLW for 2023. I popped into Canva for more inspiration, and there it was.
Time to hit the button!
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
We’ve had lots of owl visitors the last couple of weeks, both Eastern Screech Owls and a pair of Great Horned Owls. This summer we heard Barred Owls calling to one another. We live right on a river, and have lots of dead trees nearby, so it’s a great spot for them. They bring us so much joy, and I think we appreciate them because they don’t visit as often as other birds. Our serendipitous nocturnal meetings inspired this poemish piece.
Cool night’s closed windows
Keep calls from reaching me
I brave evening’s air
Pull up the quilt
Cock my head
And wait
They’re back
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
Slog. It’s a word we don’t hear often. One definition is “a spell of difficult, tiring work.” That’s about the best way I can describe the beginning of this school year.
Our numbers are high and our Kindergarteners are young. Very young. Barely made the “five by September 1st cutoff” young. Sitting is hard. Listening is hard. Following directions is hard. Being together is hard. Is that a post-pandemic thing? I don’t think so, but who knows.
What I do know is I’m learning to teach again under more “normal” circumstances. Our rug is back. We sit on the floor together. Our desks are pushed together in pods. I read “real” books that aren’t projected on a screen. I make charts in front of students on the easel instead of reading Google slide after slide.
There’s so much good. Focusing on the good should help me survive the slog, right? I’ll keep you posted.
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
Note: Once again, Morgan Davis’ Slice — this time The Absence Of — inspired me to put pen to paper. This time, a poem-ish piece. I so missed the magical nighttime summer sounds drowned out by necessary air conditioning over the last 2+ weeks. Thanks for the inspiration, Morgan!
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
There it was. All clean, waxed, polished (well, that might be pushing things a bit), and ready. Not ready for students but essentially ready for me.
But was I ready for it?
Usually, when I have a summer workshop to attend towards the end of the summer break, I’ll go in a little early and do some arranging for 30ish minutes or so. I might straighten the rug, set up my chair and easel, and move a few rolling storage units back into place. Just a few things to make me feel like I’ve started.
But apparently, that was the old me.
The new me arrived yesterday with 30 minutes to spare. I sauntered in, looked around, checked to make sure everything was there that should be, and sat on the rug. My dearly-missed rug, where my community of writers, readers, mathematicians, scientists, and sweet little humans will gather. Oh, how I’ve missed this rug since March 11, 2020, but now she’s back out of storage aired out, cleaned, and ready to host new friends.
The old me would have jumped up and gotten to work, but the new me hopped up, grabbed my bag, turned off the lights, and left. It can wait.
Note: Morgan Davis’ Slice from last week — This Used to Be…And Now — inspired me to think about a change in my own life. This seemed to fit. Thanks for the inspiration, Morgan! And keep the writing prompts and videos coming. Love them!
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
“We’d be happy to put your new kitchen island together. Don’t hire a carpenter!” My 87-year-old parents moved recently and desperately need more kitchen storage and counter space in their new place. The island kit had been on back order from Wayfair for quite a while and it had finally arrived!
What were we thinking?! The pieces were everywhere!
The hardware was everywhere!
And the tools were everywhere! Four hours, six minutes, and five broken screws later, we were almost there.
But it was 7:30 PM, our gas tank light had come on as we were parking, and home and dinner were 45 minutes away. Time to wrap things up for the day.
In my dreams, it’s all assembled and ready to put to use. Soon enough.
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
It was as if we’d known each other for years, and just picked up where we left off. That’s how our small gathering of five Teach Write writing buddies went one week ago today. While it was our first time meeting “in person” (you can read about that in last week’s Slicehere), it felt, and we laughed about this, as if we were just five good friends getting together for a few hours of fun. And honestly, that’s who we are, so no wonder. We ate, enjoyed ice cream, did a few touristy things (IYKYK), laughed, and got a little teary. The only thing we didn’t do was write. But that’s OK. We’ll do that together on ZOOM.
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
Four years ago, I took a risk. A writing risk. I’d been blogging and sharing for just a year or two with the Two Writing Teachers “Slice of Life” and Poetry Friday communities for fun, but I felt ready to up my writing game with a class or coaching of some sort. I’m not even sure how I found it, but I signed up for the “Time to Write Workshop” in the then-new Teach Write community of writers.
Each week we gather together on ZOOM (we were pros before the pandemic hit!) to set goals and intentions for our time together, write alongside each other for close to an hour, and then celebrate and set our writing goals for the upcoming week. Many of us have been writing together for several years now. While members come and go, we’ve become a close-knit community. A family.
And now, It’s time to meet! This afternoon, in nearby Concord, MA, six members of our TTW family will be getting together for the afternoon to spend time together. In-person! No computer screens! While I am local, several will have found their way here from further afield — Cambodia, Canada, and New Jersey! We have rough plans, but who knows what will happen. Maybe we’ll even write together in-person.
Stay tuned!
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
We’ve been so careful Over two, long years Masking every day, everywhere Sanitizing raw skin day after day
Two years of teaching Masked, distanced, careful They dropped like flies But we didn’t
Now, the lone shoppers with masks Exercisers with masks Outdoor diners with masks Visitors with masks
Five days in Still adjusting Still so careful COVID descends
Thanks for wondering and wandering a bit with me today. And many thanks to the crew at Two Writing Teachers, and the extended SOL community, for giving us the time, space, and encouragement to live the writerly life here every Tuesday throughout the year and daily during the month of March.
During the month of April, I will write or revisit poem-ish pieces inspired by my frequent walks in the natural world. Trails, paths, signs, and views always intrigue and inspire me. I have left my challenge open so that the poems may take any form — haiku, free verse, borrowed line, blackout — and who knows which direction they will go in or how often they will appear.
The Iris Garden
There is a rustic bridge, low arched That spans a tiny shallow pool, Whose waters when the ground is parched Still keeps the neighboring meadow cool. Here Nature gently seems to say, “Now come, we welcome you to stay.”
So all throughout the heat of day, Made joyous by the Summer’s Sun, There plays a merry company; From morning till the day is done They nod and dance beneath the trees As if they know their joy would please;
Gay butterflies and bees for hours Will hover o’er a fairy sea Whose very waves are made of flowers; Who ever dreamed such shades could be? Now watch their varied colors dance. How many see you at a glance?
Rich purple, veined with orange light; Pale blue, that vies with twilight’s hue; Some, painted like the shades of night; And others clear as morning’s dew! While every where your eye may seek, This living beauty seems to speak.
When summer sends her wondrous day Of sweetness filled with leisure hours, Come hasten to this spot and play Amid the beckoning Iris Flowers, N’er evening sends her dark’ning shade, Or time shall bid the petals fade!
— Mildred Kennedy (1877-1960)
A peek at my process —
Today I veer off course a bit with my NPM project. Four years ago, I wrote about a long-ago Japanese iris garden that haunts my dreams. (You can read about that here.) There have been a few very exciting developments since that post.
My parents, who are cleaning out before a major move, are finding all sorts of treasures, one of which is this sestain — The Iris Garden. It was written by my great-great aunt Mildred, who lived in the house with the Japanese iris garden as a child. I had shivers up my spine as I opened up the faded typing paper and realized the treasure I held in my hands. We don’t know if the poem was ever published anywhere, so this could very well be its debut. I can’t think of a better place.
They also found some amazing images of the garden captured on glass autochromes that we did not know existed. I had four of them digitized and am thrilled that now the garden of my dreams is beginning to come back to life again.
Iris garden with tea house in the background.
Unknown visitor to the garden.
My great uncle Gordon and great aunt Frances, who grew up in the home, dressed for visitors to the garden.
My great grandmother Frances ready to receive guests in her beloved garden.
Now that I am in possession of such treasures, I’m torn about what to do with them to protect them. For now, I am basking in the excitement of paths lost to time having a rebirth of sorts.
And lastly…
Today it’s Karen Eastlund’s turn to add the penultimate line to the 2022 Kid Lit Progressive Poem on her blog, Karen’s Got a Blog. Participants borrowed lines from literature and songs. I was thrilled to provide line 19, which I borrowed from The Keeper of Wild Words. I hope you’ll join us to see how the poem finishes up tomorrow. Here’s the full itinerary for the poem.
Wondering and Wandering 