4/7/2011

The old dog panting
even though it’s cool outside
Just a few breaths left

Our sweet, funny mutt turned 16 this winter, which is 112 to you and me. 
She can’t see or hear all that well, and she pants at the slightest provocation,
but she loves a crunchy bone and a good ear rub.
Same as she ever did.
Can’t say quite how much we’ll miss her when she’s gone.

 4/6/2011

Oh, bushel basket
of spinach and green garlic
dinner, comfort, love

Our spring veggie basket delivery has begun!
Each year we wait for the day when the basket, heavy with surprise, lands on our front stoop.
And this year, that day was today.

Romaine lettuce, kohlrabi, spinach, green garlic.
And the most amazing pea tendrils you’ve ever seen.

I made quiches of half the bounty before it could even hit the fridge. 
I love this time of year…

4/5/2011

bees drunk on milkweed
lantana and coneflower
let children slip past

There is something so sensual about spending a lazy afternoon at the Botanical Gardens with a slew of ten year olds.
Hopping rocks across the lily pond, stroking the lamb’s ear, sniffing the rosemary and lemon verbena…
"Being in an herb garden makes me want to chew," says my daughter.
And softly, with nothing really in our mouths, we do.

 4/4/2011

Oh, happy raindrops
squirrel opens his mouth toward sky
we are all awash

I was caught in the rain on my bike this morning, after so many months of dry. 
I laughed and hollered like a banshee and am listening now as it slows down to a dribble off the roof.
But there’s the thunder still, promising more.

4/3/2011

each rolling hill blurs
the sun flattens into night
what is left to see?

I was on the road tonight at dusk, right when the light got all soft and the air turned pink.
And it was as if everything had truly transmuted, as if the shape of things had changed, and the quality and material and location of things.
Everything.
When really, it was just the light…

 4/2/2011

split peas, onions, salt
thunder of a rolling boil
makes the best of drought

Weather outside and weather internal.
Hot or cold, wet or dry.
There are long-standing jokes mocking weather talk — something that should, apparently, only be used in awkward moments by boring folks.
But really, it is what underlies our every day. 
We might as well take note…

I’m not big on practical jokes. 
They make me nervous — and not just having them played on me, but also playing them on others. 
I say "April Fool’s" before the joke is even finished, lest my victim spend a millisecond worried or confused. 

This morning when my Small One went off with her "broken wrist" wrapped in an ace bandage, it took great restraint not to follow behind her saying, "She’s just joking, folks. Carry on. Nothing to look at here…"

I’m well aware that this makes me kind of a scrooge on a day like today, but here’s the thing. I like surprises that make people float, rather than knock them off balance, surprises that make people expand rather than contract, surprises that delight.

And I really, really like surprises that come wrapped up in poems. 
So, it may not be my day but it’s definitely my month: National Poetry Month!

Here are some surprises for you:
Get a poem-a-day in your mailbox from Knopf
Get a poem-a-day in your mailbox from Poetry Daily
Get today’s list of Poetry Friday features at The Poem Farm.

And, if you’re so inclined, you can get a haiku-a-day right here. Today marks the beginning of my third annual April Haiku Series in celebration of National Poetry Month, and I’m even extending the practice to haibuns this year — at the invitation of one of my poetry sisters, Andi Jazmon at a wrung sponge.

A haibun is the practice of complementing one’s haiku with a little prose. A little commentary, or journalling, to frame or extend the idea of the haiku. Basho created the haibun style as he needed a way to add a little narrative to his imagistic revelations. Sometimes I need that, too.

4/1/2011

cat in the foxgloves
thinks he’s hidden, quiet, pink
ears like white flags fly

Don’t we all think our disguises are a little bit better than they are? Our self-perpetuated myths? Our masks and pen names? When really, we can’t help but walk around revealing ourselves. Showing our cards and our hearts. Waving our white flags….

Today was a pretty sweet day.
A chilly morning.
A fourth-grade field trip.
Something garlicky-gingery in the slow cooker for tonight.

And then I got an email that took the day from just plain sweet to super duper sweet to the power of ten.

I’ve got an illustrator for my next book with Beach Lane Books and she is the amazing Stephanie Graegin!
My editor showed her my text for Happy Birthday, Baby and she said YES!!!
Horns!
Confetti!
Dancing!
More dancing!
More dancing!
More dancing!

I’m so excited…

Sometimes folks will ask how a new book is doing — and they mean sales-wise — but it’s months before a royalty statement comes and even then we might not have the foggiest idea how to read it.

So, I always say, "It’s doing very well… in my family."

That truth took a hit after my grandmother died.
(She’d been on a quest to single-handedly distribute my books to every sentient being in the state of Wisconsin.)

But my mom has taken up the task with gusto.
These are just some of the copies of Noodle & Lou she is giving away:

Pretty sweet, huh?

One of the big bennies of doing so many school visits this winter?
Lots and lots of cute, funny, clever letters from kids at those schools.
I shared a few little snippets last week, but have since received another packet and I can’t resist:

Dear Ms. Scanlon

Dear Mrs Scanlon,

Dear Mrs. Scanlon

Love Molly