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!