A Week of Heat Waves, Bad Air, Sunflowers, and ER Visits

Red sunflower, grown from seed

A Week of Heat Waves, Bad Air, Sunflowers, and ER Visits

So, this week I’ve been sick, like going to the Urgent Care (tested strep and covid free) and then the hospital a few days later (got a little dehydrated – it’s been super hot, over 90 every day, I’d been running a fever and having stomach issues.) It’s been a while since I’ve been this sick – unlike a lot of people, I’m not a “haven’t even gotten a cold during the pandemic” person – but I hadn’t been put down by a minor virus in a while. It’s very humbling to realize your body tangles with a virus – probably a little-kid virus, gotten at the symphony, is the doctors’ consensus – and you’re down for the week. A week of above 90 temps and bad air didn’t really help. I couldn’t really go out at all during the day, which made me very stir crazy.

I wish I could say that I spent my time improving myself but nope! Just trying desperately to keep myself and my poor garden alive. (Hydration is very important for flowers AND humans, it turns out, in this kind of heat, as I was reminded by the ER doc before he put an IV liter of fluids in me.) Also a week of socializing leads to a down week, almost every time. I loved going to the symphony and the poetry reading, but my immune system did not.

Flicker in my garden box

I watched the new Jurassic Park, which made me happy by having dinosaurs, finally, with fur and feathers as discovered in recent fossil record, and displeased Glenn by showing dinosaurs in the snow, which he absolutely insists is not physically possible (though paleontologists might argue with him on this point.) As usual, I was cheering for the dinosaurs and noticed a not-thinly-veiled covid metaphor in the Bill-Gates-type Billionaire of a Monsanto-type company who was delivering genetically-altered locusts to kill his competitors non-genetically modified crops. Clear covid metaphor, right? Maybe not.

I also read a few books, none of which stuck with me, which happens when I’m sick. On the plus side, did get a few shots of goldfinches and sunflowers, as well as a curious flicker in my flower box. I hope you enjoy them. I promise to have a more thoughtful post next week when the air is cooler and I am not as sick. (One bit of good poetry news: I got my first blurb for my upcoming book Flare, Corona, and it was so great that it brought tears to my eyes! I’ll post it at a later date…)

Hugo House Reading Report, Starting a Book Club in Woodinville Wine Country, Inching Towards Normalcy

Swallowtail butterfly on pink lilac

Hugo House In-Person Reading Report

Well, I survived my first live reading in two and a half years, and really enjoyed listening to the other readers. Thanks to Lesley and Hugo House for making it happen!

It was great to hang out with other poets and the audience on a summer afternoon (thank goodness for air conditioning) and it was nice to have a Q&A afterwards to talk about poetry. I had a hard time navigating Hugo House’s stage (which has three steep steps and no hand railing – heads up for disabled poets reading there) but no trouble with the mike or the reading itself, which was a relief (I worried I had forgotten how to read in person!)

Lesley and I in Woodinville

Below is a shot Glenn took of all the readers post-reading (keep in mind we had masks on all night and the light was weird) and a shot of the books for sale. Martha and Lesley are always a pleasure to hear, and I think this might have been the first time I’d heard Rena, our current WA State Poet Laureate, read, and it was delightful. And it made me feel like a real writer again. And it’s good practice for next year’s book launch!

And I was lucky enough that I got to have a little pre-reading time earlier in the week with Lesley and her charming husband and daughter in Woodinville for some wine-tasting and catching up. Unfortunately the lavender farm didn’t open up in time to take them on a tour, but hopefully it will open next week? I always love showing out-of-town writers Woodinville – it really is a beautiful part of town, a little out of way of the usual tourist attractions.

Immature goldfinch with sunflower

Starting a Book Club in Woodinville Wine Country (and Inching Towards Normalcy)

So I’m meeting with a winery person tonight to talk about starting a book club that will meet there on a regular basis – along with a quarterly open mike. (I’m thinking: literary/art-oriented mystery, speculative novel, poetry book, open mike as the rotation.) I have been lamenting the lack of literary culture in Woodinville, so maybe this is at least a part of what I’ve been looking for – and a way to ease into socialization (again, in real life – I never stopped talking to folks on the phone or on Zoom) again.

I had a writer’s group I attended on Bainbridge Island for over a dozen years – which was wonderful for my writing and that feeling of isolation you can get as a writer – and I’ve missed it since it dissolved a few years before the pandemic. I know there must be other book people on the East side – or even beyond – that would enjoy talking about books and trying out writer-and-book themed wines and an occasional open mike reading.

I’m also thinking about looking for work again – I don’t know health-wise how much I can take on, so I’ve been trying some freelance and volunteer projects to gauge how I do with deadlines these days.

Hot Air Balloon, Yellow, afternoon light

You can tell that I’m taking baby steps towards post-pandemic normalcy, though our covid numbers here are high and I’m still hyper-aware of the risks as an immune-suppressed person. (Had my first PCR test in a while right after the poetry reading, just being extra careful.) Just like the hot air balloons that have suddenly started appearing in our skies again, I’m trying out things – poetry readings, the symphony last week, and making in-person dates with friends – that hopefully herald better times ahead. Maybe things are finally looking up?

By the way, if you’d be interested in this book club thing at a winery in Woodinville, please leave a comment or contact me. We’d love to have you!

New Poems in Redactions, an Upcoming Reading at Hugo House, Symphonies, Supermoons and Sunsets

Two Poems in the New Issue of Redactions

Thank you to Redactions for publishing two new poems of mine, one of which will be in my upcoming book from BOA Editions! As you can see, all the cool cats are talking about the new issue!

Here’s a sneak peek at one of the poems, “When I Try to Write an Elegy:”

From Redactions

Immature Anna’s hummingbird, perched, with charm

Upcoming Reading and Conversation at Hugo House on July 20th

My first reading since February 2020 – and it will be with a group of terrific poets. We’re going to talk about the importance of poetry in navigating our lives and then read a few poems. Here’s a flyer – fancy, right?

I hope I remember how to dress, speak in public, and talk about poetry with reasonable intelligence. It’s been so long! It will not be zoomed or recorded (because the WA State Poet Laureate will be there – some clause in their contract?) but it is free and it will be fun!

Pileated Woodpecker in flight

Symphonies, Sunsets, and Supermoons

It’s been a busy week! Glenn had a birthday, we visited with my little brother Mike, Glenn tore his rotator cuff, we’re getting ready to visit with friends from out of town tomorrow, and we were gifted with tickets to the symphony – something we haven’t gone to since way before the pandemic – this one was a Harry Potter themed Symphony! It was nerve-wracking (everyone was masked, but hadn’t been indoors with that many people in a long while) but the audience was enthusiastic and full of people dressed in costumes and children so it was pretty uplifting (and a female conductor, which was pretty cool!) We had expensive orchestra seats (once again, we were gifted these – unfortunately, because someone who had bought the tickets caught covid) and we got dressed up, which will mean that’s the second time this month I had to put on real clothes, makeup, and real shoes (not slippers!) I mean, that’s a lot of socializing for someone who’s pretty much been hermiting for two and a half years.

We also had our first dry week in a long time, and already my grass (less of it than there used to be, but still) is crunchy and I’m trying to keep the birds watered with three separate bird baths and fountains. The sun stays up late, the sunsets have been beautiful and we had a clear night to see the brightest supermoon of the year. The garden is still blooming – roses, sunflowers, lilacs (again?), lavender and lots of pollinator-friendly little plants. So here are a few pictures of just how beautiful it is in the Pacific Northwest when summer finally arrives.

Anniversaries, Snoqualmie Falls, Upcoming Poetry Events – and Continued Uncertainty

Glenn and I at Snoqualmie Falls

Anniversaries and Snoqualmie Falls

Glenn and I celebrated our 28th anniversary today and spent the day at Snoqualmie Falls and Ollalie State Park. It’s a wonderful thing on a warm sunny day to drive into the somewhat cooler mountains, watching the skyline turn into massive rocky cliffs and forests. We stopped by a lavender farm – not open til next week to purchase lavender, but still beautiful – on the way up, and there was a farm stand selling a quart of cherries for $3. Which is a much better deal than you’ll get at, say Whole Foods, and they taste better. On the drive up, we noticed the wildflowers – foxgloves or lupines – that grew along the sides of the mountains.

My Twin Peaks-esque shot of today’s view of the falls

The larger falls were mobbed with tourists but Ollalie’s smaller falls had only one other person, a teen throwing rocks into Snoqualmie river. I bought some local honey – I’m always tempted by the Twin Peaks stuff (Salish Lodge, where we stay, is in the credits of the opening of Twin Peaks, and a lot of the town staples.) I didn’t turn on the television once the whole day, and I’m only now sitting down at the computer.

This whole week has been lovely, mostly sunny and in the seventies, and we’ve visited two wineries and been enjoying our birds and our garden. We are really like old people, aren’t we? Glenn’s birthday is coming up next week so we plan to do a low-key celebration of that. It got me thinking about my own 50th birthday next year. Will it be safe to have a real party?

Me with summer white rose bower

Upcoming Poetry Events at Hugo House

My friend Lesley Wheeler is coming into town and I’ll be doing a reading and discussion with her and several other poets at Hugo House on July 20. This is the first in-person poetry event I’ve done since February 2020 – which, ironically, was also with Lesley, at Open Books!

Lesley’s promoting her excellent book of poetry criticism/memoir, Poetry’s Possible Worlds, which I continue to recommend to everyone. I’m looking forward to it/feeling anxious about it – covid is still a threat, I’m on the approved list to get Evushield (a preventitive monoclonal antibody treatment for vulnerable individuals who have allergies to the MRNA shots, among others) but haven’t been able to receive it yet – but I miss human interaction, and that is the truth, especially other writers. And because this is a discussion and reading, it’ll be a little more relaxed and conversational than just a reading alone which is a nice way to slide back into public readings. Because, after all, my new book will be out before you know it – next spring is not that far away anymore. I keep wondering – will covid still be a threat? Will things in America be better or worse? The song says, “Que Sera, Sera”…but I find it hard to be that sanguine. Anyway I hope to see some of your friendly faces soon!

Finding a Way to Destress and Refocus in a Time of Chaos, Independence Day (But Not for Women, Apparently) and Looking at Living in a New Country

Glenn and I at Apple Farms wineries with roses and lavender

Finding a Way to Destress and Refocus in a Time of Chaos

In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been struggling with the destruction of women’s rights, the environment, and the elevation of guns over lives by the Supreme Court, as well as a pandemic that hasn’t slowed down and a coming recession. Personally, I’ve also been fighting with health challenges, feeling discouraged about being a poet in general, stressing about my upcoming book and the larger issue of how to spend my upcoming years – where to live, how to work, and how to balance life’s stressors.

Today and yesterday, we did spend some time outdoors in the sun, the weather was perfect and mellow, and we just walked among the beautiful blooms around Woodinville. We stopped in for a wine tasting today and noticed that there’s a new lavender farm opening up just down the street from our house in two weeks. Being so down, it’s been an effort for me even to garden or do my photography, which are two of my usual stress-reducers. So, I’m trying to remind myself not just of the beauty around me, but trying to care for the animal self – the self that runs on too much cortisol in a fight-or-flight state all the time. I’m reading novels, and I watched Everything Everywhere All at Once, a comedy-sci-fi-martial-arts movie that’s really about an older woman’s ability to understand her place in the universe, her family, and her work. It really resonated with me, especially since I’d just finished Diane Johnson’s Lorna Mott Comes Home, which deals with similar issues in a less multiverse-centric way. Here are a few pictures I managed to snap this week.

Goldfinch looks askance at fountain

Independence Day (But Not for Women, Apparently) and Looking at Living in Another Country

Like a lot of American women, I am not feeling especially enthusiastic about celebrating independence day, given that America just took the rights to our bodies away from us – affecting everything from my friends no longer being able to get medicine for rheumatoid arthritis (because it might affect a fetus) to people no longer wanting to stay in the states they’ve been living in because they, like I, have a health condition that might kill them if they got pregnant. Now, even before this ruling, pregnant women and babies have the highest death rates in America of any developed nation- showing that America does not actually care about life, just about controlling women’s bodies. This is not a joke – to many of us, this is life or death. There are women’s strikes and protests going on in many cities on July 4.

Female hummingbird drinking from fountain

I looked at women’s rights in countries around the world, and found that most of them, including some you wouldn’t guess, are more progressive towards women than the US. Adding to the out-of-control mass shootings with no signs of stopping and the fact that you can barely get an American to read anything, much less read poetry (sorry for the generalization – but it seems awfully true these days) – I’m wondering if this is where I want to spend the rest of my life. I started researching three cities in particular – Dublin, Ireland, Paris, France, and Montreal, Canada. All three are significantly cheaper to live in than Seattle, which was a surprise, and all have good PhD program possibilities and Microsoft offices for Glenn to work from. All definitely have better, cheaper health care, especially for long-term health issues. It felt empowering to remember I am not trapped here, and no one can force me to stay in a country so hostile to women. I have actual Irish and French heritage, as well as interests in Irish and French mythologies and folklore, so that helps.

Now, moving countries is a big deal, expensive, and disruptive. I wouldn’t do it without a lot of thought. But quality of life is important, and we sometimes have to make changes to improve our quality of life. I did it twenty years ago when I moved to Seattle for a job, and I love the Pacific Northwest still. Money, culture, art, education, health care, air quality, natural beauty, access to work – all these things are going into the decision. But since 2016, I’ve just felt more and more that I don’t belong here, and America’s oppressive conservatism, as well as its lack of affordable health care and culture, are tipping the balance for me. It doesn’t help that many of my friends have moved away and many of my beloved specialists have recently quit for good. The tethers to this area are getting more tenuous…If you were a woman and a poet, where would you go right now?

America Goes Backwards 50 Years, Karyna McGlynn’s Terrific New Book, and Spending Time with Flowers When You Want to Burn It All Down

Towhee is outraged

America Goes Backwards 50 Years

This was a terrifying and terrible week for women in America. Not only did this activist awful Supreme Court turn back a gun law that had been on the books in New York State for over 100 years, as they swore they would not when they were approved by congress, they overturned Roe v Wade. As someone who uses contraceptive pills to live (literally – would not have survived without the birth control pill to control the bleeding from my heritable bleeding disorder – and getting pregnant would kill me and the baby, so that’s a big no) it makes me so angry that so many people I did not elect are controlling my medical decisions and those of half of the population. If it was about children, conservatives would pass things to feed children, educate children, keep pregnant women and babies alive (we have the worst death rate of babies and pregnant woman of any developed country), or literally anything to make sure children are taken care. Instead, they scream “life” when they are literally condemning some women and children to death, whether fast (like me, or any woman with a bleeding disorder – or a woman with an ectopic pregnancy, like many friends of mine who would have died without sacrificing the implanted cells) or slow, with no health or child-care support for women in poverty or crisis. This is no joke. It has made me consider moving to a better, more progressive country, like Ireland or France. I’m sure I’m not the only woman considering this. By the way, these laws also put the kibosh on IVF. And the Supreme Court seems likely to continue its terrible path. Am I mad? Am I protesting? But what else can I do?

purple alliums

Spending Time with Flowers (When You Want to Burn It All Down)

I’ve been so down this week. It’s also turned from freezing cold spring to blazing hot summer, in the nineties now where it was in the sixties last week. It’s horrible for anyone with MS to deal with heat and these extreme weather changes.  I can usually find some solace with flowers and birds, in nature, but it has been hard, honestly. I went to the Bellevue Botanical Gardens when it was cool enough in the evening but today it’s too hot to go anywhere. It’s pretty miserable to go from supercold and wet to superhot and dry but that’s been the pattern on the West Coast the last few years. Meanwhile, in the background like radiation ticking, people are still dying of covid, and monkeypox is spreading and the CDC does not have it under control – they’re not even testing adequately. Like they’ve learned nothing from the last pandemic. It’s shocking, and also, not shocking at all.

I thought about things we can do. We can donate money to the right causes. We can ask congress and the President to do something to stop the runaway evil train that is the Supreme Court and do things like pass sensible gun laws (some gun laws were passed this week, but pretty weak) and pass a national protection for women and doctors to make the choices about their health and bodies. These seem like reasonable things to me – and with a Democrat President and Congress you’d think we’d be able to do it, but Trump did so much damage during his Presidency that we may never be able to fix it – and the Jan 6th hearings have shown there are still people willing to kill the police they pledged to support to get their way, even if the Democratic vote says otherwise. We should be worried. But what can we do, practically? I mean, we can leave if we have the means, the health and the job flexibility. but what else?

Sylvia poses with Karyna McGlynn’s new book

Karyna McGlynn’s Got a Great New Book Out

Another coping mechanism of mine during stress is reading, and I had a wonderful new book to enjoy this week, pictured to the left. My literary cat Sylvia poses with Karyna McGlynn‘s new book from Sarabande, 50 Things Kate Bush Taught Me About the Multiverse, which is a fun, flinty, 90s-nostalgic Kate Bush love letter with terrific titles like “I Wake Up in the Underworld of My Own Dirty Purse,” which starts:

My stage name is Persephone./ I perform nightly for a smattering/ of ill-informed Tic Tacs.

And oh, any girl who went through an all-male barrage of poetry professors when they were young will immediately understand and identify with “How to Stop Raping the Muse,” with lines like

in workshop suggested/ my poems had Teeth but no Tenderness…my lines were called sharks and shameless/ hussies.

Anyway, get this book from Sarabande, terrific for a summer night read with a little rose. And maybe a cat and a typewriter. Will this solve all of our problems? No, but it will take your mind off of them for a little while.

Gardening in the Rain and a Plethora of Birds, Turning in the Final Copy of Flare Corona to BOA, and Favorite Father Poems

Sunflower raised from seed

Gardening in the Rain and a Plethora of Birds

In the coldest and wettest spring (and now, almost summer) we’ve had here in 50 years, it’s been uniquely dispiriting to try to garden. My pink lady apple tree has black mold on its leaves; many of my perennials have died, along with my herbs like rosemary and sage, my roses (but not my neighbors’ roses?) continually eaten by deer. So here are a few pictures of the hard-won successes – a sunflower raised from saved seeds, my lamppost growing with pink clematis and peonies.  It’s cold and gray today, again. I’ve had the flu this week (almost inevitable with the nasty weather), so I’m mostly indoors, not doing enough, not feeling productive. But the birds. even in the cold rain, have arrived faithfully. Here are a few pictures—goldfinch on fountain with sunflower, flying pileated woodpecker, cherry tree finch, and salvia with female rufous hummingbird.

Part of the garden: pink clematis and peonies on lamppost

Turning in the Final Copy of Flare, Corona to BOA Editions

I turned in my final copy of Flare, Corona to the editor at BOA Editions this week. I’m waiting for final feedback (I added six poems) before it goes to typesetting. I’m also waiting to see cover graphic ideas. I’ve reached out to a few people for blurbs – never my favorite part of the job, especially with such a vulnerable, personal book.

Turning in the final copy of the book, as many writers will tell you, is stressful and involves a certain amount of “letting go”—you know, you can hold on to the book making tiny or large changes forever, and often making the book worse because of anxiety. A little like my garden—you can desperately edit, weed, fertilize, and at some point you will just make the garden worse with all your worrying. You have to appreciate the parts that are working, that are flourishing, like peonies, as much as you regret letting go of your four-year old rosemary. A good thing about turning in your book is that you can start working on your next book—I already have two manuscripts in progress going, still shaping them and writing new poems for them. I am hoping for the launch of Flare, Corona to be post-apocalypse—I mean, post-pandemic—and for next time this year to be peaceful, healthy, happy, with normal-ish weather and getting together with friends and family. I’m hoping.

Favorite Father’s Day Poems

It’s Father’s Day and Juneteenth, which is being celebrated tomorrow as a national holiday. I have a few favorite poems about fathers – one I memorized in sixth grade for a poetry recitation contest, called “My Father in the Night Commanding No” by Louis Simpson, and another “Father of my Country” by Diane Wakowski. And of course, Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy.”

Father’s Day can be a difficult day for many who didn’t have present fathers, or ideal fathers, or very nice fathers. What are your favorite father poems, of any kind? I would love to see poems in the comments. And if you have Juneteenth poems to share, those too!

Zoo Visits, Crowns, and Family Emergencies, Melissa Studdard’s Dear Selection Committee and Setting Boundaries in the Lit World

Close up of snow leopard

Zoo Visits, Crowns, and Family Emergencies

This week felt stressful. Glenn’s parents (who are yes, vaccinated) tested positive for Covid, and his father was in the hospital for related heart issues. It’s very hard to be far apart when your loved ones are going through health crises. Glenn’s brother did a great job of keeping us informed, but it reminded us both that living far from your parents can be stressful and it’s hard when you can’t help.

I also had a long dental appointment – I was supposed to get three crowns in one morning, two of them from root canals from the previous two years – it ended up, thankfully, only being two crowns – and we decided to spend an hour or so the day before at the Zoo in a brief window of “no rain,” where they’d recently re-opened an exhibit that had been closed for two years during the pandemic, the butterfly house. The birds were all off display because of the threat of Avian flu – a bit of a metaphor for our own pandemic, right? I’m really off-exhibit right now? But we had a chance to see the snow leopards, who don’t always make such nice appearances for us. Spending a few moments admiring the beauty of butterflies and snow leopards was an excellent stress-reliever. The rain came back the next day and has stuck around, it feels like, forever.

Sylvia with Dear Selection Committee

Melissa Studdard’s Dear Selection Committee

Had the pleasure of reading Melissa Studdard’s new book from Jackleg Press, Dear Selection Committee. This is a book of exuberant, joyful, and heck, sexy and fun poems set into the framework of applying for a very specialized kind of job. Some poems are heartbreaking, taking on contemporary tragedies. It’s an inspiring book, too, making me want to write for the first time in ages.

Here’s a short excerpt from “My Kind,” the opening poem: “I am my own kind. I’ll learn to play piano. Like Helene Grimaud, / I’ll see blue rising from the notes. I’ll be an amateur bird watcher,/ a volunteer firefighter, a gourmet chef, a great/ humanitarian. I’ll plant a prize-winning garden,/ grow a pot farm. My hair is on fire. I’m running/ out of time.” The cover art by Karynna McGlynn is also amazing.

Setting Boundaries in the Lit World (Is Hard)

I’ve been writing an essay for an anthology on “Self Care for the Disabled and Chronically Ill Writer.” Writing this essay has made me start to think about drawing more boundaries around my life, especially around unpaid labor. Since I started living life as a creative writer, I’ve been writing book reviews, blurbs, writing recommendation letters, volunteering on boards of lit mags, as the editor of lit mags, served as Redmond’s Poet Laureate (paid, but barely), taught at an online MFA program (again, paid, but barely), run youth programs for creative writing, hosted readings, and just given advice to strangers at random when they asked for twenty years. Twenty years!

Some of these things brought/bring me real joy – I still get a thrill out of introducing young people to the kind of fun poetry they’ve never experienced – but other parts, I fear, have started to not bring joy. I’ve talked, in my book PR for Poets, and on this blog, about the idea of writing karma – that we give back what we can when we can in the hopes that the good energy would come back around.

Two pileated woodpeckers at a feeder meant for a much smaller bird

As someone with limited energy and time, I have to start setting boundaries in the lit world – when to say no, when to say yes. I’ve also realized that writing friendships, though sometimes requiring more energy, are something essential to keeping me going when I get discouraged, so I want to spend more energy on the friendships that are actually mutually beneficial (because, let’s be honest, they aren’t all mutually beneficial).  I’m not a person who likes to set limits or say no. But this is part of self care. I cannot give and give forever. And as someone with expensive dental care (see above) and medical care (try having MS sometime – it’s super expensive), I may need to focus a bit more on work that pays more than “almost nothing.” These are hard decisions. But protecting your time – if you are a chronically ill and/or disabled writer – is one of the most important things you can do for your writing. If you’re worn out by unpaid labor, you are not as likely to write your best work or have the energy to promote it. So choose you. (This is really hard, especially for those of us with people-pleasing tendencies.) As I get older, I want to claim my time more. We do not have forever – choose the things that are really at the top of your priority list. Spending time at the dentist or doctor  or testing or physical therapy – while not my favorite things – are necessary evils, and they already take away time from family, fun, writing, and things like spending time regenerating your soul with butterflies. When I consider how my light is spent, as someone wise once said.

Three New Poems in Bourgeon, How to Cope with a Rough Week, Talking Publicity Efforts and Finishing Up Manuscripts and Other Poetry Things

Three New Poems in DC-based Bourgeon

I want to start with a thank you to DC-based Bourgeon, a new literary journal, for publishing three brand new poems from me, “A Woman Turns Fifty with Cherry Blossoms,” “Cassandra Reminds Us the Spring,” and “Dating Profile” (which, warning, is a little spicy.) Here’s a link to read them all. 

Sneak peek of one of the poems below:

How to Survive a Rough Week

So this week has been a little rough, with more shootings, I’ve been struggling with a never-ending sinus/bronchitis infection not helped by the constant rain and storms (will we ever get spring weather? Before we get blistering summer? It seems not!), more fights against the rights of women, and my father-in-law in the hospital many miles away in Ohio.

I often tell people that surviving a bad week is purposefully grounding yourself in things that bring you peace, happiness: for me that includes pink flowers, my pink typewriter, and spending time with friends and loved ones, even if that’s on the phone.

Our garden was trashed by the cold wet winter and spring—lots of stuff died or is dying of mold or related diseases – so we picked up a few new plants to put in the ground. It’s not like we lost a crop as farmers, but still, Glenn and I put so many hours into so many things that did not survive (or were eaten by deer) that it’s discouraging. It’s not just us—we’ve strolled many nearby usually-flower-filled spaces that have been decimated by either poor weather or construction (so much construction killing so many flowers and trees).  Still, baby bunnies, chickadees feeding baby chickadees, and flowers cheer us up.

Talking Publicity for a New Book, Finishing a Manuscript and Other Poetry Things

I had a good conversation with a friend who just had a book come out. She has been doing a ton of readings—both in person and on Zoom—and was just two weeks into her book’s launch, but was feeling overwhelmed. When is enough enough?

My attitude towards this, when I talked about it in my book PR for Poets, is that no one will ever say “you’re doing enough” so you have to decide. If you love doing readings, or social media, or sending out postcards, do that. Poetry has a longer shelf life than most things, so don’t worry if in the first month you haven’t gotten to everything – interviews, podcasts, blog posts, readings, etc – all of it takes it out of you, especially in the third year of a pandemic and people are just starting to go to bookstores in person again. So be kind to yourself, set boundaries. Don’t say yes to everything. And try to celebrate the small wins.

As I am finishing up my final version of Flare, Corona for BOA Editions, a lot of anxieties have come up. Is this grammar okay? Why did I leave punctuation out of this part of the poem but not this other part? Have I forgotten people I need to thank (probably!) or acknowledgements for poems that might have slipped through the cracks? I really do need to turn it in to typesetting but there is so much you want to all of the sudden fix about your manuscript. Since this is my sixth poetry book, I can say yes, this is also a normal part of the process. I get very insecure about my book right before it goes out into the world. I loved the book so much while I labor-intensively (and money intensively) sent it out to publishers. I loved it when it was taken. But now, I see nothing but flaws.

I also got a few acceptances this week that would normally be big deals to me but it felt hard to celebrate with so much other bad stuff going on. The world feels very dark and dismal (and it’s not just the abnormally cold rain, though that hasn’t helped). If you are struggling, please reach out for support and take good care of yourself. Please remember you are making a difference in the world, even if sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. Maybe take a break from social media and news. A friend of mine reminded me to submit poems (which I hadn’t been) and give myself time to write (which I also hadn’t been doing much of). Put at least one positive thing on your calendar just for fun. Wishing you as good a week as possible.

A Somber Week, Reading Lesley Wheeler’s Poetry’s Possible Worlds and Diane Johnson, and a Visit to the Japanese Gardens

Hummingbird at fuchsia

A Somber Week

It’s been a somber week, with a school shooting that broke so many hearts, and also was a reminder of so many previous school shootings in America and yet our elected officials do nothing…and cooler and rainier weather than we’re used to, even here in Seattle. I’ve been sick for so much of May I’m kind of forgetting how it is to feel well, so hopefully this sinus/stomach/bronchitis thing will end when the cold weather does – really soon? Memorial Day Weekend, and constant rain and a high of 54 today – it’s enough to make the die-hardest Seattle-ite wish for a weekend somewhere dry and warm.

And no worries – I did get one day of sunshine and warmth and spent some of it at the Seattle Japanese Gardens, so plenty of flowers and birds in this post to counter any gloom.

Pink Typewriter with peonies

Reading Report – Diane Johnson and Lesley Wheeler

I did spend more time reading and editing, and I attended a Zoom poetry reading last night that was really amazing (Melissa Studdard, Erika Meitner, and Rosebud Ben-Oni were particularly moving.) In the “mom-and-me pandemic book club” news, we have started a new novel, Lorna Mott Comes Home, by Le Divorce‘s Diane Johnson, about a sixty-something formerly highly respected art historian who ends her second marriage and comes home from France to California. The passages about trying to promote her book in a post-internet world are particularly appealing – the frustration trying to get back in the game after being out of it for 20 years – her daughter writes her Amazon reviews and she goes to bookstores for signings and they can’t find her books. Her adult children and two ex-husbands are in various levels of crisis as well. I might have mentioned I’m fascinated by these newer books that seem to focus on women in academia (or post-academia) going through midlife crises – there are so many about men, so few about women! The last one I really loved was Lesley Wheeler’s Unbecoming. (If you have recommendations for others, please leave them in the comments!)

Lesley Wheeler’s Poetry’s Possible Worlds

Speaking of Lesley, I finished a new book by Lesley Wheeler that’s a fascinating mix of poetry close reading, cultural criticism, and personal essay, called Poetry’s Possible Worlds. She navigates difficult subject matter – including the death of a parent and political turbulence – by reading contemporary poems and then connecting them to the wider world.

She talks about how each book of poetry opens up alternate possible worlds for us to inhabit, which can help us deal with life’s crises and foibles alike. Like poet-essayist Kelly Davio’s It’s Just Nerves, which combines personal essay, navigating a mysterious autoimmune illness, and pop culture representations of disability, it’s a thought-provoking collection that makes me want to try my hand at this kind of hybrid essay-criticism. Anyway, if want to curl up with a good poetry/criticism/personal essay hybrid book, pick this up. The last essay, about her writing process, was one of my favorites in terms of its descriptions of writing flow and how projects interact with each other.

A Visit to Seattle’s Japanese Garden, and More Flowers from a Sunnier Day in Woodinville

One of my favorite places to visit in Seattle was the Japanese Gardens, and the one sunny and warm (it got up to 70!) day we had this week, we went down and bought a membership for the first time in two and a half years! With an unusually cold and wet spring, there was a weird combination of blooms – wisteria, which I love, but also azaleas, rhododendrons, hydrangeas.

Although I wasn’t well enough to truck around for long, it was long enough to give me a little sun-and-flower boost. An osprey also flew right by us and disappeared in the trees. Some young women were practicing painting with water colors, and others were practicing TikTok dances. Ah, to be young again! Another sign the pandemic might be lifting soonish – the Woodland Park Zoo’s Butterfly Exhibit is coming back after two years of being closed.

We also visited a new winery in Woodinville during another brief interval of sunshine, and the surroundings were full of beautiful blooms – this time, pink roses, orange honeysuckle and purple irises.

In the summer, they have live music every weekend and these wineries hop. It’s good to get in before it gets too crowded. That’s the benefit of living down the street.

PS By the time we have a party, we will have so. much. wine. ready to go! And one last shot of Sylvia posing with Lesley’s Poetry’s Possible Worlds.