A Poem For A Thursday

I generally have a hard time with Emily Dickinson's poems. I know, I know pretty sinful for a former poetry student. I think it's the old school language (Perfidy? Should I know that?) or even silly things like random capitalization, but she's a lot of work and we all know how I feel about work.

This one drew me in, particularly the closing two lines "Our summer made her light escape / into the beautiful" How perfect is that!? Even now in late October I still find myself clinging to summer. She's got a good point. It's not like September 21 arrives and the world gets dark, the leaves drop and we all hide in our houses (wait for February for that) but instead, summer just sort of slips away. The annual transition to fall is light, slow, soft and beautiful. Not exactly sure how it all relates to grief but go ahead and explore that on your own. HA!

As imperceptibly as Grief
Emily Dickinson

As imperceptibly as Grief

The Summer lapsed away--

Too imperceptible at last,

To seem like Perfidy--

A Quietness distilled

As Twilight long begun

Or Nature spending with herself

Sequestered Afternoon--

The Dusk drew earlier in--

The Morning foreign shone--

A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,

As Guest, that would be gone--

And thus, without a Wing

Or service of a Keel

Our Summer made her light escape

Into the Beautiful.

Closing Time

When we were hunting for a lake place, a year-round property was an essential on the check list. For the past few years, we've spent fall weekends and even a few winter weekends up at Round Pond. It was a quick lesson in home ownership. Busted pipe, broken water heater, frozen well. We made some understandable mistakes in the harsh NH winter but we think we have it down by now (cross your fingers).

We spent this last weekend buttoning everything up because we shockingly realized we won't return until mid-January. Mid-January! It seems insane to be away so long, but with busy weekends, travel over the holidays, and the fact that we want to stick around Portsmouth, we decided to drain the water, put everything away, and abandon ship. It wasn't easy with the leaves at their peak, a fire roasting in the stove, and a quiet peacefulness around the lake. But we'll be back!

Happy Birthday Merwin (It's Not What You Think)

Yup, today is October but I actually want to talk about yesterday. It was W.S. Merwin's birthday. He turned 88! One of my favorite podcasts, The Writer's Almanac, honored his birthday with some history about his life. He is an inspiration not only through his writing, but the way he lives and the things he cares for. He has dedicated his recent years to restoring an old pineapple plantation in Maui to its original rainforest state, meticulously adding species of palms over the years. This relationship to preservation and ecology in quite clear in his poetry, so much of which includes trees and animals and talk about our connection to the earth. There were some nice quotes from Merwin about his life, aging, the writing process, and poetry in general.

"I think there's a kind of desperate hope built into poetry now that on really wants, hopelessly, to save the world. One is trying to say everything that can be said for the things that one loves while there's still time."

"We try to save what is passing, if only be describing it, telling it, knowing all the time that we can't do any of these things. The urge to tell it, and the knowledge of the impossibility. Isn't that one reason we write?"

"I've found that the best thing for me is to insist that some part of the day - and for me it's the morning until about two in the afternoon - be dedicated to writing. I go into my room and shut the door, and that's that...If you're waiting for lightning to strike a stump, you're going to sit there for the rest of your life."