Tied to Spring 2

Today there was once again the feel of spring around our place. It was hard to get a good photo for proof, but I saw a daffodil pushing through the ground and debris today. The snow has melted on the mountain across the lake.

JEJ  also remove our "yurt cover"  on the gazebo and built a fire in the fireplace. The garden lights were another welcome sign of spring. It is also staying light longer. Now that is a treat.

The ponds are beginning to melt. Shelby was in for a surprise when she tried to walk across the ice. I wish I could have gotten a picture.

The ice began to crack and she stayed on the largest piece and jumped to the bank. I tried to get her to go out again for a photo opportunity, but she is too smart for that.  We didn't even need a fire in inside today after the house warmed up in the morning. It's coming... I believe!

Tied to a Date in March

I knew working toward my National Board Certification this year would be a challenge, but as the date nears for my portfolio to be mailed, I am writing, revising, revideotaping, and gathering student samples like crazy and redefining challenge. If you are just stopping in and wondered why I haven't been commenting on your blog or creating a farm on Facebook, I have been completing a portfolio to reach National Board Certification in teaching. My portfolio is a box of materials I am putting together to demonstrate my teaching. I have done two video tapes, started a blog with my students (more about that later), analyzed student work, analyzed my own work, and done a ton of reading. The whole process continues to make me a stronger teacher. Today I was a weary teacher, but still a bit stronger.

The box has to be mailed by March 31st (which is during my spring break). Tonight I made reservations for a stay in a mountain cabin so JEJ, the dogs, and I can get away for four days after I deliver my box to the post office. We will be surrounded by mountains and pines in a remote location at the north part of the Methow Valley. JEJ lived in this valley as a child and wants to go back and visit places he remembers. I printed a picture of the cabin and that is my motivation to keep staying the course for the next six weeks. After the portfolio is mailed I prepare for an exam. Fortunately the exam is scheduled at the end of May. I can take a little break.  I am starting to see a faint light at the end of the tunnel.

Tied to Odes

Valentine season seems like a perfect time to reread odes, especially those by Pablo Neruda.

Ode to Things
I have a crazy,
crazy love of things.
I like pliers,
and scissors.
I love
cups,
rings,
and bowls -
not to speak, or course,
of hats.
I love
all things,
not just
the grandest,
also
the
infinite-
ly
small -
thimbles,
spurs,
plates,
and flower vases.
Oh yes,
the planet
is sublime!
It's full of pipes
weaving
hand-held
through tobacco smoke,
and keys
and salt shakers -
everything,
I mean,
that is made
by the hand of man, every little thing:
shapely shoes,
and fabric,
and each new
bloodless birth
of gold,
eyeglasses
carpenter's nails,
brushes,
clocks, compasses,
coins, and the so-soft
softness of chairs.
Mankind has
built
oh so many
perfect
things!
Built them of wool
and of wood,
of glass and
of rope:
remarkable
tables,
ships, and stairways.
I love
all
things,
not because they are
passionate
or sweet-smelling
but because,
I don't know,
because
this ocean is yours,
and mine;
these buttons
and wheels
and little
forgotten
treasures,
fans upon
whose feathers
love has scattered
its blossoms
glasses, knives and
scissors -
all bear
the trace
of someone's fingers
on their handle or surface,
the trace of a distant hand
lost
in the depths of forgetfulness.
I pause in houses,
streets and
elevators
touching things,
identifying objects
that I secretly covet;
this one because it rings,
that one because
it's as soft
as the softness of a woman's hip,
that one there for its deep-sea color,
and that one for its velvet feel.
O irrevocable
river
of things:
no one can say
that I loved
only
fish,
or the plants of the jungle and the field,
that I loved
only
those things that leap and climb, desire, and survive.
It's not true:
many things conspired
to tell me the whole story.
Not only did they touch me,
or my hand touched them:
they were
so close
that they were a part
of my being,
they were so alive with me
that they lived half my life
and will die half my death.

-Pablo Neruda
from Odes to Common Things

Tied to Spring

I am ready for spring.

This got me in the mood on Sunday.

The sunshine helped also.

I am ready to go out and pick these in the garden, not buy them!

... but I will miss the foggy sunrises that create scenes like this over Lake Roosevelt.

Tied to Strings: Family Reunion

the Coomer cousins and SVG at Grandma West's house

Some years ago I did a workshop for teachers centered around memoir writing with students. In preparing for this workshop I scoured  a wide variety of text samples that I could use as memoir examples with students. One book I stumbled upon is now one of my top five favorite poetry collections when teaching students. It is called Strings: A Gathering of Family Poems, selected by Paul B. Janeczko. Many poems I have posted on this blog have come from this book. The book is divided into strings of family groups that tie the book together. Some examples are sections about parents, children, nieces and nephews, and cousins. I am preparing to teach poetry to my sixth grade class and this was the first anthology I revisited today. It is hard to select just one poem to share, but tonight the poem "Family Reunion" was worth a read. As we plan a family reunion for July this poem spoke to me at many levels.

 my Uncle Bob, Auntie Lila, Grandma West, and my mom in 1955

Family Reunion

Sunlight glints off the chrome of many cars.
Cousins chatter like a flock of guineas.

In the shade of oaks and maples
six tables stand
filled with good things to eat.
Only the jars of iced tea sweat.

Here the living and dead mingle
like sun and shadow under old trees.

For the dead have come too,
those dark stern departed who pose
all year in oval picture frames.

They are looking out of the eyes of children,
young sprouts
whose laughter blooms
fresh as the new flowers in the graveyard.
- Jim Wayne Miller

Sibling Assignment #119; Tied to Richland, WA

SIlver Valley Girl gave the sibling assignment this week. "Think about one of the places you were living in the 1980’s and write about how you are still tied to that particular place. " In the summer of 1980 I moved to the Tri-Cities in southeastern Washington state. I was a newlywed and my (ex) husband had been hired to work at the Hanford area. I was hoping to get a teaching job. The first place we lived was at Tapteal Apartments in Richland. The apartments sat right at the end of Columbia Park with a view of Bateman Island and the Columbia River. When I found a picture to post here I felt frozen in time. The picture showed the window of the apartment I lived in.

Right next to Tapteal Apartments was a popular restaurant/bar called R. F. McDougalls with a deck that was full most evenings with patrons enjoying the view and meeting with friends.

Fast forward to about ten years ago. I was having my hair styled in a local salon in Colville. One hair stylist looked very familiar. Later I ended up having an appointment with her. I learned that she grew up in the Tri-Cites, but I had recognized her because she had also worked at my favorite salon in Kennewick. Bonnie has done my hair ever since. Every time we are together we share old Tri-Cities stories and  still continue to find connections between people I knew, people she knew and places we liked to go. It really cracks me up.

Last time I was there we were trying to remember the name of R.F. McDougalls. Both of us remembered it, but couldn't remember the name. After it came to her she told me her mom lived at Tapteal Apartments most recently. Boy... did that take me back.  I didn't even know if Tapteal Apartments were still there. She couldn't believe I had lived there and  once again we had a connection. She told me when her mom was preparing a fancy dish and was missing an ingredient, she would just head over to the kitchen at McDougalls. She ended up being friends with everyone in the kitchen and hung out there sometimes. Who knew?

a view of the Columbia by Bateman Island close to my first home in the Tri-Cities

It is "hair day with Bonnie" on Thursday. I always look forward to our tie to the Tri-Cities and sharing stories. My former hair guy comes up and hunts at her cabin north of where I live. I still laugh thinking about running into Richard at the Chevron station in Kettle. He would say, "Bonnie must do your hair. I taught her everything she knows."

Bonnie  grew up in Pasco so knows that area better. I remember more about Kennewick since that is where I lived most of the time I was there. It gives us just enough information to be dangerous.