I don’t remember when I fell in love with wildflowers
Maybe it was when
I danced to the music of wild mustard
forehead to forehead
with great blue heron clapping the beat
Maybe it was when
the chorale of poppies
sang out the orange
a song I can’t help
but sing along
Maybe it was when she told me
I’d find globe lilies
at the second bench
and they bounced in the breezes
of Mt Diablo valley
I don’t remember when I fell in love with wildflowers
but today
I fell in love
all over again
Today’s Verselove prompt was an invitation to look closely–something I find that my camera helps me do. So after a stroll through my camera roll, I found my inspiration.
Slow Motion
Fireworks explode
in greens, blues
purples
painting the sea
in still life
motion
in motion almost imperceptible
sea stirred
I remember
to slow down
and channel
my inner anemone
sunbathe in the shallow salt
water
soak up the sun
let the sea stir me into motion
And, when no one
is looking
throw out sparks
that bring
color
to the world
When Erica over at Verselove offered an invitation to write about flowers, I knew immediately that I would write about the California state flower: the golden poppy. Poppy’s feel like my alter ego–they open up in the warmth of the sun and close and duck their heads when the weather cools and the sky is cloudy.
On my first day back in the classroom after a week away for spring break, I knew I wasn’t up for the technicalities of crafting a villanelle. Instead I opted for the simplicity and constraint of an etheree: a ten line poem that begins with one syllable and builds to ten in that tenth line.
Ode to the California Golden Poppy
Pop
of gold
on roadsides
California
golden poppies sing
delicate beautiful
dancing in the warm breezes
It’s spring! I’m here! Pay attention!
Carpets of gold ignite the hillsides
pure California sun in a blossom
Where I’m from poems are tried and true in the writing project circles where I spend my time. So when Stacey at Verselove shared Where I’m From, Again as today’s post, it felt familiar.
I decided to try a very short form today…a Haiku. Can I express some aspect of where I am from in just 17 syllables? Here goes…
Where I’m From: Moonlight Beach version
walking sandy shores
osprey soar, egrets wait — breathe
in sea, breathe out home.
Dave’s prompt over at Verselove about travel is actual lived experience at the moment. And as often does when travel is involved, the day got away from me. Here is my small offering…a piece that may (or may not) develop during the course of the month.
Roadtrip
Pack the car
snacks galore
(which we never touch)
Are we traveling
or moving in to stay?
Today’s Verselove prompt comes from Denise. She encouraged us to borrow some rhyming words to craft a poem of our choice.
Rhyme is one of those techniques I mostly stay far away from. Rhythm, yes. Word play? I’m in. But rhyme challenges me–it feels too forced or too trite or just too obvious.
But in the spirit of trying and working to craft something meaningful, I turned to Emily Dickinson and her very well known poem, “Hope” is the Thing with Feathers and borrowed some rhyming words–as well as using her title as inspiration on the slant for my title.
An afternoon at the Monterey Bay Aquarium under the influence of the sea–both inside the aquarium and outside in the wilds of the magnificent Monterey Bay provided the content: jellies, the giant Pacific octopus, the grumpy looking moray eel to name just a few.
Hope Unfeathered
In depths of blue
another world appears
breaths unbodied
inside out tears
Spiraling within an octopus soul
rages a tentacled suctioning storm
transformational power of the rainbow
a palette of colors from cooling to warm
Some float and bob
unnoticed unheard
hope unfeathered
fantastical creatures, marine mammals, and birds
Under the spell of the sea
wild wet weirdly wonderful
I splash in the mystery of extremity
so much to explore–just the ocean and me
“Ort, ort” That’s the sound of sea lions. In my family, we’ve taken to calling them orts (which also means if we’re not sure from a distance whether it’s a sea lion or a seal, ort works for either).
Today while walking on our usual beach, we encountered this sea lion…who almost seemed to pose as I worked to capture this photo.
Unfortunately, this beautiful animal was probably this close to shore because it is experiencing negative effects from the algae bloom along the coast. I just heard a news report on our local NPR station explaining that the algae bloom produces a neurotoxin that harms sea life. Sea World has been rescuing sea lions and trying to save them.
I loved getting to watch this sea lion up close and was happy that it didn’t seem to be beached. When I stopped to photograph, it was swimming in the waves and walking along the shore–which also let me try my hand at some action photography. On my way back, I noticed it out a bit further in the water–I hope that is a good sign!
Algae blooms have become a regular occurrence on our beaches. At worst, we experience lots of sea life deaths. At best, we get spectacular bioluminescence displays where the beach lights up at night as the waves crash.
I’m grateful to live where I get to experience nature’s wonder and beauty…and understand that there will be some bad things that come with the spectacular sightings. I also know that it is important to protect our natural resources–and foster a love for nature and help children learn to take care of these spaces.
Yesterday a sea star, today an ort…what will tomorrow bring?
“What is it that you feel you have the need to have 13 ways of looking at?” That was the question posed by Poetry Unbound’s Padraig O’Tuama in a recent post. A question that got me thinking this morning…and also had me rereading Wallace Stevens’ Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird. My mind went to the beach–a place I spend lots of time for lots of different reasons.
Thirteen Ways of Knowing the Beach
I
I match my breath with the ins and outs of the waves. Salty water molecules swirl around me, seasoning my skin. I fall into perfect sinus rhythm.
II
Seagulls shout. Bossy voices command attention as they probe the shore for handouts and scout out their next heist. Don’t turn your back on the sea or the seagull.
III
Curled toes, deep in the wet and squishy sand. Ankle deep, knee deep, splash! Cool or downright cold. Goosebumps form and squeals of childhood echo. A time machine.
IV
Sun’s out, skin’s out. Memories of baby oil and sunburn mix with realities of skin damage, SPF, and UV index. Trickster sun makes its mark even when hiding behind the clouds.
V
Wind whips and whirls sending sand in sinuous swirls. Waves in white caps wash, breaking barriers, reclaiming all within reach.
VI
Cliffs crumble uncovering geologic stories in layer upon layer, shells on mountain tops where lands rose and sea retreated. History in sediment, conglomerate, sandstone until time, pressure, and heat works its metamorphic magic. Change is constant.
VII
Ospreys hunt, eagle of the sea. Fishing claws grabbing dinner from the deep, no poles or lines. Transported by talons for treetop dining. A creature of sea and sky.
VIII
Squadrons of pelicans in perfect Vs oversee hoards of beachgoers. Gliding on gusts, flapping in formation, surfing the swells, their bellies nearly touching the waves when they rise. Pause and dive. Pouch first approach to prey retrieval. Dramatic drops for seaside lunch.
IX
Artists with rakes trace circles, designs larger than life with perfect symmetry, perfect Pi. Fleeting beauty etched in the sand, hangs in the gallery of your mind’s eye.
X
Tide pools hold secret worlds that live in the in-between. Sometimes completely covered, other times exposed. Life teems under the kelp, sea grass, algae. Sea stars creep on tube-feet, nudibranchs with psychedelic seventies colors strike a pose, pudgy squirting sea cucumbers move only at the sea’s whim. Hermit crabs seek new homes, dwellings abandoned by their former residents.
XI
Snowy egrets with their bright yellow socks stomp the pools at low tide. Lunch counter is open. Neck with an S-curve, stretched out or curled in, dancers in fluid motion.
XII
Beach combing, treasure hunting, shore sweeping. Colored glass roughed and smoothed by the sea, bits and pieces of green, white, amber, sometimes even blue. Sea diamonds. Picking up plastics, multiplying by mitosis, never ending source of damage, destruction. Pollution of our precious life source.
XIII
My playground, location of endless possibility. I walk on water, I walk on clouds. My ears fill with the soothing sounds of whispering waves. I can taste the salt on my lips and feel the release as stress runs down my shoulders and swims out to sea. My heart matches the rhythm of my breath, the rhythm of the sea.
There’s nothing I like better than extending the walls of the classroom and taking learning out into the world…or at least outdoors around our campus.
And you might know, I love to take photos. I like to share my passions with my students, so I also teach my students to take photos. What could be better than combining going outside with math and photography?
We headed outside yesterday morning in search of odd. My students have learned about odd and even numbers and are getting pretty good at feeling confident that they know which is which (even as numbers get quite large). I set a few parameters for them:
At that point, the fun began. At our first stop on the playground, most students were immediately drawn to our wall ball courts and saw 3 right away. Many of them aimed their lens and took photo number one.
But then they started to notice other numbers. Some students found large numbers (by counting windows), some found interesting images. There was quite a variety.
I listened as they negotiated with each other about the number they saw. Some realized they had miscounted, others clarified their understanding of odd and even through conversation with a classmate. They looked up, knelt low, got close, and angled out from afar.
We returned to the classroom and examined our work. Each student picked a favorite photo to share–we are in the process of putting together a display of odd for our classroom wall.
I’m already thinking about our next math walk. Maybe we’ll focus on triangle…
I sneak a peek at the news and the darkness spreads over me. It feels like a shadow, blocking out the sunlight and warmth I crave. Just when I think it can’t possibly get any worse, it does. How do I both stay informed and sane at the same time?
The sun was shining when I got to school this morning. I headed into my classroom and immediately got to work organizing materials for teaching. I looked up and saw my colleague pass by…and ran out after her to give her something.
That’s when the light caught my eye. The soft warmth of morning light caressed the yellow wildflowers that are a part of our landscaping. I couldn’t resist leaning in for a photo to try to capture that moment to carry with me throughout the day.
The light, my friend and her bright morning optimism, golden flowers aglow, and the warmth of the sun on my shoulders came together to create the perfect conditions to start my week.
Here’s to keeping the glow…or at least returning to the photo to remind myself not to dwell in the shadows.
What keeps your spirits up when things start to feel heavy?
Thinking Through My Lens 