mmmmm morels

Big A mowed too aggressively by the morel patch last year so I was worried they wouldn't come back, but here are a few morels I found (in a spot he'd missed blitzing behind the elm). 

At and I ate a couple, and the rest have gone to good homes, where the whole family appreciates morels (Nu and Big A won't eat 'em over here). 

Nothing quite like the first year we were here, or even the rainy spring of 2019... Still so much better than last year's poor showing, when I appear to have found just two. 

Everything was worse last year. 

"maybe-you're-just-like-my-mother" day

The human kids helped me clean and restock our Little Free Library and then all the kids worked in the garden--digging, clearing, weeding, pruning, and planting in the veggie plots. There are piles of autumn leaves everywhere, but the paths are now cleared and we'll need not fear running out of spearmint and/or peppermint (which came back strong over the winter) any time soon. Ha.

I had a walk with EM planned and the kids had planned to take me out for a walk later, but it looked like a downpour, so we stayed in, and they made me a big pot of tea, which we drank in the tea garden while we did a puzzle and then played cards.

Dinner was personalized mezze platters everyone helped to make. 

It was such a lovely day.

This is only a test

I got home from the weekly grocery shop, predictably getting a bit carried away in the greenhouse buying (mostly inexpensive) begonias, geraniums, vinca vines, and spikes. In this test of my devising, unpacking the car--in the absence of a potting table or potting shed--I (hilariously) stuck the tiny pots into the frames and gutters of the Big A's precious ladders. Now to wait for his reaction. Would he: 

A. clap his hands in delight and pronounce it charming (no chance of this)

B. shake his head with a rueful smile and ask me to move them soon (probably)

C-F. any response less loving/indulgent than B. 

(Dear Diary, he got a B.)

"even doves have pride"

First business appointment today was Zoom court, where JL's PPO (personal protection order) against their stalker ex was upheld and extended. Abusers are really their own worst enemies--the judge was visibly deprecating of his disrespect and narcissism (I was too). 

Some committee work + paperwork + unfinished business... Then a lovely, supportive, mentoring all-women meeting. We're opening up the previously faculty-only group to staff and admin; I want to get athletics, facilities/janitorial, and our catering staff involved too!

A kind shoutout from Mel at Stirrup Queens, a heads-up that an old poem had been published in The Scriblerus Spring Issue, and a Google scholar alert about an essay that was picked for an anthology and is now in print round off the writing updates for the week. 

____________________________

Pic: Two weeks or so ago, our cherry blossoms at their peak.

day/break/out

Daylight--it wounds the sky, gashes the clouds
--a jail/a madhouse would feel like a vacation
today. J/K; joke! I'm timid, presumptive
 
I send a few glances out--sort of as envoys,
like lighting small candles everywhere 
as though entertaining--protest

I think my mother once had hands like mine,
to measure submission as it crept up on us
--in the flicker of a lazy lizard eye

In my head, I just want to keep assembling 

these lines, ironically, un-wrinkling words

I don't know--back into distraction

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Meme from Twitter; TBH, the day is as gray as this picture.

"maybe I'm just too demanding"

Got grades done yesterday; long meetings today; all-day meetings with the Board of Trustees tomorrow; multiple meetings Friday. My annual faculty update is due next month. I'd better find a way to set boundaries and make summer writing work for me if I don't want a repeat of last year's lost summer.

combat landscape

these shapes of things we thought of

when wet and swampy from birthing

imprint on us bossily--love or neglect

the effects of hurt and genius and dirt

yet it feels like power--this waking up

making ourselves anew for each day

remembering how you would catch me

when I spilled over like a careless drink

now spent things colored big and blue

as bruises have swollen shut the doors

to all the places we've ever left behind

so in our minds, we recount loss all day

 

say: can you hear me--1, 2, 3;  I, 2, 3--?

faraway and wingless, yet needing to be 

we sift sight and experience: for our eyes

see forts while our hands feel for forests