dis-interest

 It is still Friday for a couple more hours, so feel that I can squeak in a poem for today.  V. good ending to this week.   Enjoyed this poem sent courtesy of The Writer's Almanac as I realize some of my discomfort with the present is craning my neck to look back at what now appears, halcyonic.

This is not
a problem
for the neckless.
Fish cannot
recklessly
swivel their heads
to check
on their fry;
no one expects
this. They are
torpedoes of
disinterest,
compact capsules
that rely
on the odds
for survival,
unfollowed by
the exact and modest
number or goslings
the S-necked
goose is—
who if she
looks back
acknowledges losses
and if she does not
also loses.

"Don't Look Back" by Kay Ryan, from Say Uncle. © Grove Press, 2000.

redemption

Ms. Dunston is back and flourishing.  Am beyond relieved.  Today was fueled by the usual first-day-jittery nerves, but it was much more in the happy teaching tradition of my previous years in the classroom.  Was sliding into some serious self-doubt with the wretched winter term--that I had made a rather large and irreversible mistake in accepting this position.   The above bear was a first-day-of-the-semester gift from one of my students.  Deciding on a good name for her and wishing that I had a matching furry pink hat.

Slowly settling into my new classroom; am pleased to report that I now have a desk, a chair, a piano and a set of bookshelves.  Perhaps next year,  I will be granted some technology as well.  A blur of a day, but finally a good one.

happy happy to Steven

 I met my cousin Steve when I was two months old.  And I'm pleased to say that our lives have been entertwined and siblingesque since that auspicious day.

It is a delightful side-effect to the new job that we are now within-walking-distance neighbors.

The actual candle-blowing-out shot was too blurred to post.  Here's to another few decades!

lower Froedel

 some more lace frosted upon my car this morning.

 good luck packets stuffed for my new and returning students

 After three months of being here, I finally received a classroom today!  I am in the Froedel Building--named after some benefactor.  I am delighted with my view; it's not evident here, but I can see Liberty Bay and bits of the Olympics on truly clear days.

Lots of cleaning and organizing to be done to make this appealing.  Fortunately, I adore cleaning and organizing.

And if you squint at the white board on the left, you'll see that it is pre-marked with staff lines!

Gong Hay Fat Chuy

Beautiful feathers of ice all over my car this morning made me a tad bit late for work.  Must remember to look outside first thing upon arising.  At least during the winter.

And today is the beginning of the Lunar New Year--this year's featured animal is the Dragon. The dragon is perceived as a mystical and auspicious creature in Chinese cultures and this year is expected to bring prosperity and transformational change.  After work, am dropping by the boarding house to meet the new Chinese students and to deliver my little gold/red packets with chocolate coins.  And then heading home to my new abode to search for prosperity....

good omens for Bainbridge life

$.12 found at various points in my day, including a penny found on my new doorstep!

 one of my shiny new Christmas gifts finally loosed from it's box

 it's shiny Noel cousin--alas, I cannot use it yet, as I have no other kitchen accoutrements at present.

&!  My first fire, in my first fireplace!!  So far, our electricity has not gone out, but should it go, we shall be warm and able to heat food.

3rd official snow day

while it's been irritating to postpone my move, I am thrilled that I got out of three days of teaching this horrid term.  V. glad to see the end of it and resume my normal classes.

 Icicles formed on everything during the sleet section of our storm.
 

 random cosy house seen on my evening crunching walk

grrrr

 it is still snowing and it needs to stop.  I need to safely get into town for food and boxes so that I may pack while I have these lovely free hours off from work and move downtown this weekend and escape this horrid country living.

End of rant.

Guess I shall be grateful that the electricity is still on so I may read.

victory where one finds it

Still snowing and another day off from school.

this day, uncrossed

Oh joy.  Oh bliss.  A true-blue snow day. 

(It's not really yellow snow; it's the light as I tried to catch the millions of pre-dawn sparkles.)  And although it is not Friday, here is the perfect snowy poem for you.

"Let other mornings honor the miraculous.

Eternity has festivals enough.

This is the feast of our mortality,

The most mundane and human holiday.

On other days we misinterpret time,

Pretending that we live the present moment.

But can this blur, this smudgy in-between,

This tiny fissure where the future drips

Into the past, this flyspeck we call now

Be our true habitat? The present is

The leaky palm of water that we skim

From the swift, silent river slipping by.

The new year always brings us what we want

Simply by bringing us along—to see

A calendar with every day uncrossed,

A field of snow without a single footprint.

"New Year's" by Dana Gioia, from Interrogations at Noon. © Graywolf Press, 2001.

the wonder of winter

 I love snow.  I relish the silence that comes with snowfall.  Waking to the ethereal lightness of snowfall is a delight. 

 The photos never do it justice; it's magic.  Enchanting.  And I hope, for once, the weather matches the frenzied news reports.  At least on a school day!

 A little Mary Oliver to stay in shape for her upcoming conference...

 

Over the local stations, one by one,
Announcers list disasters like dark poems
That always happen in the skull of winter.
But once again the storm has passed us by:
Lovely and moderate, the snow lies down

from Beyond the Snow Belt

scenes from the week

 Love this shot of Blanca, using two laptops to complete her presentation prep.

Some of the costumes for I Feel Pretty from West Side Story.

Costumes for Autumn in New York

And my city never fails in delivering pennies found on the sidewalks.  SO lovely to be back in civilization again; went to the Aveda school in Seattle to get my hairs cut.  Country living is very isolating and car dependent.  I am so looking forward to living in the middle of town again.

oy vay

 

Don't remember the last time I was this thrilled to see a break in my work hours/days.  It's been a less than pleasant week/term, but I consider it a confirmation that I need to absolutely trust my instincts.   I sensed back in November that this particular class was not a good idea, but I allowed my financial situation to make the decision for me. 

And I deeply regret it.

Ah well.  One more week and my regular classes will begin and a move into my own space downtown. 

odd knocks

Chinese Foot Chart

From The Niagara River by Kay Ryan

Every part of us
alerts another part.

Press a spot in

the tender arch and
feel the scalp 
twitch.
We are no 
match for
ourselves 
but our own release.

Each touch 
uncatches
some 
remote lock.
Look,
boats of mercy

embark from 
our heart
at the 
oddest knock.

whether the weather

I won't say that it rains that much here; but today, I had to dust off my sunglasses to drive.

beginnings

A new baby is like the beginning of all things-

wonder,

hope, 

a dream of possibilities.  

~Eda J. Le Shan

welcome, Anya Dunston, to this strange event we call life

Another little one in my life; enjoying his first Christmas.

and to kick off 2012 poetry...

SO appropriate that today's post delivered my ticket to hear/meet Mary Oliver in a couple of weeks.  Wild with joy may be an overstatement, but I am pretty excited about hearing her read.  Here is a selection of hers which I've been reading this wintry week:

Snow Geese

Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not  last!

      What a task

          to ask

of anything, or anyone,

yet it is ours,

    and not by the century or the year, but by the hours.

One fall day I heard

    above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound

I did not know, and my look shot upward; it was

a flock of snow geese, winging it

    faster than the ones we usually see,

and, being the color of snow, catching the sun

so the were, in part at least, golden.  I

held my breath

as we do

sometimes

to stop time

when something wonderful

has touched us

as with a match

which is lite, and bright,

but does not hurt

in the common way,

but delightfully,

as if delight 

were the most serious thing

you ever felt.

The geese 

flew on.

I have never

seen them again.

Maybe I will, someday, somewhere.

Maybe I won't.

It doesn't matter.

What matters

is that, when I saw them,

I saw them

as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.