This month, April, being poetry month we are working on our words. *last year we did weekly poetry projects*
Using an exercise from Frances Mayes, The Discovery of Poetry: A Field Guide to Reading and Writing Poetry (found via this post) we flipped through dictionaries and wrote down words that caught our eye. Eldest son and I work on our writing several times a week together and so changing things up was fun. The Dictionary of Etymology was an eye opening experience for him. Words change?!
him: annul commoner phonic perpetual lander junk henchman historian grackle dishonesty compete cinch annul
me: kinetic pinion locquacious bramble dobbin hush ibex hyphen mollify yelp dregs frowzy praxis tabulate syrup talon hooligan warble drought laud
p.s. this morning we awoke to snow. king winter will not rest quite yet.
what is behind us and what is before us
permanent residency, we have landed
the marker of 11 years touches a nerve
that 10 left unfrayed
a calm belonging
finding a safe inlet
the subtle collecting of others castoffs
fabric scraps, half used skeins of yarn. the curating
of crap. a wrapping
myself in others histories
the sailing in to the future
filling bags to pass
the birth of this baby has pushed the reset button
I have been reading, Fair Play by Tove Jansson these past few days.
Something about her writing always strikes me whether it be her children’s or grown-up’s novels. It is the joyful bleakness, a let’s- don’t-take-all-this-too-seriously-even-though-we-know-we-will mood. Reading fiction for me is purely emotional. Reading what I want to read and what I want to feel. I feel space and air around me from her writing. It seems to unsnarl my everyday from my mind. Three winters ago I read The Summer Book, post-partum and needing the same feeling then as now. Tove Jansson is nearly a mythical figure in our family. I like having her writing to myself, not to share.
my sleeping space has been a little more crowded lately.
*linking up with Circle of Pines, The Year in Books today.