the news from my little corner of the world
dear friend,
hello. how are you? is it winter where you are?
here, the world is white. it’s been snowing for two weeks and there is probably three and a half feet of snow on the ground already. it is somewhat unbelievable. yesterday, i shoveled a path to the shed and retrieved my snowshoes; i am really looking forward to using them. (i was trying to get to the garden to pick my last two bunches of kale. when i realized how deep the kale was buried, i turned away from the garden and toward the shed.)
these days, i am delighting in the unexpected. i read one of my poems at an open-mic poetry reading. (i felt brave. even though the poem made me cry.) then, atlas ran through the deep snow – over & over & over. (last year, he refused.) then, i was hired unexpectedly by a local cafe & am now training to become a barista. (it is seriously the most fun thing ever.) then, i gave my nephew lars a glimpse of my digital photo albums & he gave me the most enthusiastic praise ever. (BRIDGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
you know what i’ve been thinking about lately? truth and art and fiction. i like to find my truths, and sometimes i like to share them, but i’ve been wondering if the deepest truths are wordless – at least in a literal sense – and can only be expressed in feeling or image or metaphor or story. i started thinking about this when i gathered up a handful of my favorite story club stories to create a sampler. sharing it was one of the hardest things i’ve done thus far. upon reflection, i realized that it was because the stories give you a glimpse of me – the deeper me, the magical me, the me i don’t really know how to share at all. i didn’t realize this until i read them all together. the same is true of poetry; somehow it helps me convey the ineffable. i wonder if it’s because the deepest truths are qualities – a glimpse, a reminder of who we really really are.
i wish we could sit down together, perhaps with coffee and pie. i want to listen to your stories, and feel your truths, and convey just how wonder~full you are.
xo
p.s. i know. this is not a photo of winter. i am remembering the glory of autumn, for just a little while.
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- daily life, musings, my atlas pup, upper peninsula of michigan
what a beautiful poem to share on mic night.
i hope you get to share some of your stories too.
they’re simply too beautiful to remain in silent form.
don’t you love the name ‘barista’ ?
i think it sounds so … lovely!
i love italian.
at least that’s what i’ve always thought it to be.
I wonder if it is Italian! I shall have to look it up. It seems plausible. When I think of espresso, I think of Italy.
Dude. Pie. Good. I’m there!
I know. Pie. Is there anything better? (Wait. Maybe stuffing?)
Also, yay! It’s a date.