Spates of good weather have beckoned me out into the backyard where much needed work is required: weeding, thinning, raking, mulching. All those -ing type of tasks that result in another set of -ings such as lower back spasm-ing.
However–
There was one surprise -ing:
I planted some bulbs last year in my patio container and “whoa!” I exulted upon this sudden blooming. No weeding, mulching, raking required. Just appreciating.
Now, that’s my kind of garden-ing.
April has been described as the cruelest month, as one full of showers, and it is a month full of celebrations from April Fool’s Day to pretzels.
Most notably, at least for me, is how April is a month celebrating poetry in that it’s National Poetry Month. Usually I post a poem every day. Didn’t happen this year.
I also do a Shakespeare shout out on my blog. Sorry, Bill–happy belated 454. He did get a video acknowledgement in the school’s morning announcements.
I managed to celebrate Poem in a Pocket Day on April 26 by handing out poems to my students. Always a big hit. I just didn’t write about it.
I didn’t even read much this month. *sigh*
So what did I do this month?
A small pause and a reflection…
I taught in fits and starts. Mainly having fits about the difficulty of starting a unit, considering after we returned from spring break we had a week to prepare students for a week of state testing.
No, I am not going there.
I became so frustrated with not being able to teach without interruptions to the class schedule that I would go home and binge watch Doctor Who. I could have run to my usual standby of Haagen-Daz or chocolate, but I am trying to find non-caloric comfort food these days. The Doctor works.
Somewhat sad and pathetic I know.
But–
May is nipping around the calendar and that means AP winding down and diving into Julius Caesar.
I’m ready to spring into a new month.
April brought showers, daffodils, moose eating tulips (again), a trip to see the First Folio, unprecedented warm temperatures, and a month of poetry. Now we are on to May.
May–yes, may I just say that May makes me tired, and we are barely five days into the month. As I write this it’s 3:30 a.m., about two hours too early to be so wide awake. My head is spinning with how much I need to do this month. May I just stop a moment and reflect what the month of May involves…
(Survivor of the nefarious Tulip Moose)
Just thinking about my “get’r done” list makes me tired enough to maybe go back to sleep. May I, might I, may I get it done because all this is going through my head:
Tis is the month of maying:
May I just go back to sleep so that I’m not a zombie impersonating an English teacher…
And so, a month of poetry has come and gone just that quickly. I thought it appropriate to end out this month of celebrating with verse with a poem by Ellis Levin’s “End of April.”
Enjoy. Thanks for another wonderful National Poetry Month
image: morguefile.com/pippalou “I found a robin’s egg…”
One of the lovelier aspects of spring returning is the flurry, fluttery returning of birds. I especially like the robins cheerup salutes of this season as they parade on the lawn feasting on worms. No robin poems of notice yet, so this dandy tribute to blue birds will suffice:
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If Yoda lived around my geographics he might mutter: “Strange I think this weather is.”
Plastic tulips to fool the moose that ate last year’s batch.
For instance:
One day last week I ate lunch out on the “patio” (back doors by my classroom) soaking up the delectable rays of 50+ degrees, only to wake up to snow flurries six days later.
This must be spring. That roaring lamb thing is in gear.
I know the calendar declares spring to be around March 21. Being too comfy to get up, I checked the Farmer’s Almanac on-line instead. I definitely got distracted on the way to corroborating the date:
According to folklore, you can stand a raw egg on its end on the equinox.
Apparently the FA editors decided it was worth a try–and suceeded.
Some pithy verse:
One swallow does not make a spring.
Bluebirds are a sign of spring; warm weather and gentle south breezes they bring.
In spring, no one thinks of the snow that fell last year.
Don’t say that spring has come until you can put your foot on nine daisies.
Spring-time sweet!
The whole Earth smiles, thy coming to greet.
The vernal equinox signals the beginning of nature’s renewal in the Northern Hemisphere!
After checking out planting schedule links and other diversions, I discover Official Spring is Saturdayish and not Monday after all–Leap Year influence. Then again I knew it was spring about three days ago because:
1. A huge robin trilled a bodaciously loud and cheery morning song as I readied to get in my car and go to work. Having just read The Secret Garden, I felt compelled to chat with him. He must not have known the robin from that book as he utterly ignored me.
2. Cars are driving down the road with the ubequitious yellow bagged tires needing to be switched over from their studded weather partners.
3. Girls are wearing tank tops at school.
4. Daffodil points are cautiously peeking up out of the barren landscape.
5. Seniors are skipping classes more than attending them.
6. Black is no longer a first choice grab in my wardrobe. Got me a real hankering for purple, pink, and yellow.
7. Turtlenecks suddenly seem so negative.
8. It’s not dark when I get home.
9. Primrose pony packs greet me outside the supermarket.
10. I set up my resin chair outside the front door. I’m catching any stray sun ray I can.
What spring signs are harkening your way?
January is a paradox for me. It’s both the longest month and shortest month. It seems long due to the dark and dreary everlasting winter days, yet short because of looming finals, grading papers, and preparing lessons for second semester. This is why I’m a fan of February. I could say it’s because February is the shortest month which means I’m that much closer to June and summer break. It could be because it’s the month of Valentine’s Day, and who doesn’t appreciate a holiday filled with love and chocolate?
I actually favor February because it’s a month that is filled with hope. Days are getting longer, snow is giving away to grassy patches, there is the sense of completing another school year as graduation day is nearer on the horizon. There is also the moment of pause to think, “This year will be even better than last year.”
To celebrate this feeling of hope, the Poem of the Month is “To Hope” by Charlotte Smith
image: morguefile/lisasolonynko
There is that time of year when the snows have lingered much too long and spring is ready to arrive, yet winter stubbornly refuses its hold. Then comes that zephyr breeze, the Chinook, that warming wind that hints the good times of summer are ever nearer. The warm wind teases the remaining snowdrifts to melt and feed the hiding narcissus. Robert Frost knew exactly that moment when the warm winds bring the change oh so needed.
Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.
When haughty expectations prostrate lie,
And grandeur crouches like a guilty thing,
Oft shall the lowly weak, till nature bring
Mature release, in fair society
Survive, and Fortune’s utmost anger try;
Like these frail snow-drops that together cling,
And nod their helmets smitten by the wing
Of many a furious whirlblast sweeping by.
Observe the faithful flowers! if small to great
May lead the thoughts, thus struggling used to stand
The Emathian phalanx, nobly obstinate;
And so the bright immortal Theban band,
Whom onset, fiercely urged at Jove’s command,
Might overwhelm, but could not separate!
We all know Wordsworth penchant for daffodils. They are the poster child for spring in my book. Then again, this poem of his extolling the strength of snow-drops has me thinking of how fragile something can appear, yet have a rooted strength unseen. I will have to pay more attention to my snow-drops. I also need to scamper to my allusions dictionary and look up Emathian and Jove. That Wordsworth–he tends to keep me on my toes.
image: OldGreySeaWolf/MorgueFile
It’s lovely that spring has basically sprung. There is no subtlety of seasons in my neck of the States. One weekend eight inches floated down with the grace of a freight train, causing school to shut down (oh goodness was I bummed). The next the rain came in, melting all that amassed snowflakiness and suddenly I’m owner of lakefront property. I hope the assessor doesn’t drive by.
One of the nicer aspects of March of how it promenades in so roaringly, only to meekly usher in April and all her flowers. Mixed in flowers are sunny days, longer days, taxes *cough*, and while these are sporadic occurrences of sweet sorrow (unless you like taxes), it’s an celebrating poetry.
Yes, this is a heads up that April is National Poetry Month. This year I arranged a guest poet to appear about every other post. In between the celebrity verse readings there will be poetical bits like forms, clips, and images. Ooh, I can’t wait. I’ve been working on April since last December.
Until April and the official start-up, here are some links to help you prepare:
Got questions about National Poetry Month?
Looking for ways to celebrate NPP?
And one of my absolute favorites: Poem-in-your-Pocket Day
Walt Whitman graces the poster this year. Find absolutely tons of great poetry info at http://www.poets.org.
See you around the corner!
A writer's journey as a reader
Pam Webb 