The Squirrel and The Spatula

There once was a squirrel mother,
   who often came to our patio door,
and searched for food,
in a desperate mood,
   as her babies were always in need of more!

I took compassion on this squirrel mother,
   and left some food outside the glass door:
a spatula of bamboo,
covered in peanut butter--smooth,
   and layered with nuts galore!

Me and the boys watched the squirrel mother,
   who ate fearless by the patio door.
We enjoyed her quick bites,
and thought she was a sight!
   And hoped more entertainment was in store.

But the boys got bored of the squirrel mother,
   and went away from our glass door.
I had time on my hands,
and thought of a plan,
   to vacuum and rid myself of that chore.

The vacuum scared the squirrel mother!
   Twas too much movement from inside our door!
Not done with her snack,
and with no strength in lack,
   She went up the tree with our spatula, and off into Studly lore.

This happened yesterday afternoon. I was shocked, SHOCKED, that she took it! I ran after her, but she didn't let go. She went up, up, up the tree and never came down. Eventually she jumped from the tree to the townhomes' roof with the spatula.

AND I didn't get my spatula back! 

Poem of the Month, Picture My South

Daybreak In Alabama

Langston Hughes

When I get to be a composer
I'm gonna write me some music about
Daybreak in Alabama
And I'm gonna put the purtiest songs in it
Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist
And falling out of heaven like soft dew.
I'm gonna put some tall tall trees in it
And the scent of pine needles
And the smell of red clay after rain
And long red necks
And poppy colored faces
And big brown arms
And the field daisy eyes
Of black and white black white black people
And I'm gonna put white hands
And black hands and brown and yellow hands
And red clay earth hands in it
Touching everybody with kind fingers
And touching each other natural as dew
In that dawn of music when I
Get to be a composer
And write about daybreak
In Alabama.

......................

This poem might have been one of those that was a given for me to use. One, Langston Hughes is such a favorite of mine and two, I've been in Alabama all summer.

It's a beautiful poem, is it not? One that closely captures the essence of all that is good, and can be good, in Bama.

I've had lots of time to ponder Alabama's daybreaks/mornings, for my youngest son gets up between 6 and 7 every morning--before any else is a wake--and we spend lots of time outside on the front porch watching the Bama wake up. Also, all my outdoor runs I do in the morning. It is the best part of the day in Bama.

.......................

Picture my South full of old homes, lightening bugs, iron giants, cities of green, and ancient trees.

My parents' home, built in 1873

Probably the oldest standing structure in their town

Magnolias

Every evening spent with lightening bugs

The Vulcan, the world's largest cast iron statue, which stands over B'ham

B'ham

An old dogwood. 15 years ago I carved my initials in it.

Wallace the big oak, that says hi to me on my runs.

(Do you see her eyes, nose, and mouth?)

Goodbye Bama, it was a great summer! See ya in 6 months to a year!

Poem of the Month

Nothing Gold Can Stay

Robert Frost

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

...................

I know it is in the middle of the summer. I know.

This poem really talks about the beginning of spring, and the beauty of spring--how the first glimpse of green is golden, priceless.

But the green that Bama has at this time of year is truly wonderful. I have not been around this much green in a long, long time. Tall green trees. Full, lush grasses. Everything is pretty much covered in something green: moss, fungus, etc. Even the air seems green.

This has been priceless, soothing green.

Poem of the Month

Good Timber
Douglas Malloch

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out on the open plain
And always got it's share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man that never had to toil,
To gian and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share,
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow in ease;
The srtonger the wind, the stronger the trees;
The further the sky, the further the length;
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whos broken branches show their scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.

.................

Okay, so reason number 1 why I love this poem: it's the first poem that I memorized. Around age 11 or 12, I think. Heard it in a Sunday school lesson and fell in love! Reason number 2: It's about trees. Reason number 3: It's inspiring! And reason number 4: It's about trees!! I love the forest--it's the Cherokee blood in me.

I didn't do a poem for the month of April. Sorry y'all. I had moved and all of my poetry books were packed away. (One of my favoirte things to look at in thrift stores are old literature books. I'm starting to get a nice collection.) From now till September I'll be relying on my brain for some poems to share.

.............

In April Matt and I celebrated our 6th year of marriage. For a while now I've been feeling like we have gone through too much in such a sort amount of time. Iraq deployment, both full time in college, 3 babies, heart surgeries, more college, more military--all of this under the poverty line. I've wondered how we can handle all of it. Not really questioning our relationship, but just wondering how we can make it through each day in one piece.

After a few embarrasing break downs, and lots of prayer, I've come to realize that our life is our life. The past is the past. The future is the future. And most important, the now is the now. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger. In fact, without these trial we wouldn't be who we are today. Our trials make our lives better--nay, our relationship better. (An "aha" moment, right there.)

Love you, Matt Studly. Can't wait to see what your abs look like at the end of the summer!
And happy 6th anniversary to us, may we have an infinity more!

Poem of the Month

Spring is coming. I know it. I can just feel it. Even though it snowed crazily a few days ago, something is changing in the air. I hear birds on a daily basis, and there is starting to be more and more daylight. I'm getting very excited.... So spring, just come already!!

I'd like to thank Emily Dickinson for putting this feeling so beautifully into words. Thanks a ton, Em! Emily D. is one of my favorite poets. Seriously, who doesn't love her? (I've heard all men have a crush on her. Something about her brilliance, combined with her submissiveness... I don't know.) I love how she gets into the the mind, and exposes all the little thoughts. She can showcase the crazy with the lovely. Which I think we are all a little like that!

A light exists in spring

Emily Dickinson

A light exists in spring

Not present on the year

At any other period.

When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad

On solitary hills

That science cannot overtake,

But human naturefeels.

It waits upon the lawn;

It shows the furthest tree

Upon the furthest slope we know;

It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,

Or noons report away,

Without the formula of sound,

It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss

Affecting our content,

As trade had suddenly encroached

Upon a sacrament.

P.S. If Spring has come to your part of the world, please keep that information to yourself. If you brag about 60 and 70 degree weather, I might just go all "crazy Emily D." on you!

Love,

Shannon

Poem of the Month

Confession: I love the month of February.

Let me clarify, I hate winter and the weather that comes during this month, but I love the month of February. Why? Because it is shorter than the rest of the other months? Because it has a cool leap year thing going on? Because of the Day of Love, known as Valentines' Day? NO!

I love February because it is Black History Month, in the United States of America.

So, I love this month. One, because it is a month dedicated to HISTORY! And two, it celebrates a people who did not have many rights and privileges till after the Civil War (1865) and Civil Rights Movement (1960s). I mean, come on, this month is just cool! (It is NOT cool that there was/is slavery and oppression, just to be perfectly clear.)

Do you want me to go deeper? Probably not, but I will. I WILL!

People need heros. People need heros they can relate too. Why not have a "White History Month?" Ummm... look around. When we learn about the America's beginnings, we learn about the colonists, and they have NAMES and FACES. Actual people. When we learn about people of other color, for the most part they do not have names or faces. Tell me, who is a great Native American or African American you look up to that lived during this time? Probably can name one or two... those who HELPED the whites, right? Who are the great heros of the Revolution and Constitutional Conventions? Washington, Adams, Franklin, Hamilton, Madison... okay, even Jefferson (even though I despise that man. Such a pansy and hypocrite.)

I must also mention that just because, say myself, am white, it doesn't necessarily mean I am like another white person. This is important: race is not culture. Let write that again: RACE IS NOT CULTURE. I am a white girl, born and raised in the South. My husband's side is white, primarily Canadian. Do we automatically get each other? NO! We love each other, for sure. But in the beginning there where language barriers (even though we both speak English), different foods, and different likes in sports. See? Race is not culture. Now, you can be forced into a culture because of race. Like Africans who came to America, and their children, and children's children. People were segregated because of race, and those groups create unique cultures.

Okay, even though a person's race does not equal culture, a way a person looks is still important in choosing a hero. I love Belle off of Beauty and the Beast. Why? Because I think I look like her, and to me that is important. With time I have come to appreciate other Princesses, but Belle is still my go to girl.

Let's be honest, we all need heros. And heros that look like us, is even better. America the Beautiful has some really, really dark spots in its history. People of been oppressed (Irish, Mormon, Chinese, Catholic, Native American, African, Japanese, Jewish, German, etc.), and that is just the plain old truth. Dedicating a month to African American History is one way this Nation can help heal those hurtful and deep wounds.

Poem of the Month then? How about some Langston Hughes! (I love him, I love him, I love him.)

I, Too, Sing America

Langston Hughes (1902-1967)

I, too, sing America.

I am the darker brother.

They send me to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But I laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

I'll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody'll dare

Say to me,

"Eat in the kitchen,"

Then.

Besides,

They'll see how beautiful I am

And be ashamed--

I, too, am America.

[1925]

Poem of the Month

The Golf Links

Sarah N. Cleghorn (1876-1959)

The golf links lie so near the mill

That almost every day

The laboring children can look out

And see the men at play.

[1917]

..........

Oh man, classic "conflict theory" poem right there! I have many thoughts on this poem, but I'm not going to go too much into it. Let's just say we are stressed about our budget, and it makes us yearn for the day when said stress will no longer ail us.