The Plain Sense of Things

 

The Plain Sense of Things
By Wallace Stevens
After the leaves have fallen, we return To a plain sense of things. It is as if We had come to an end of the imagination, Inanimate in an inert savoir.   It is difficult even to choose the adjective For this blank cold, this sadness without cause. The great structure has become a minor house. No turban walks across the lessened floors.   The greenhouse never so badly needed paint. The chimney is fifty years old and slants to one side. A fantastic effort has failed, a repetition In a repetitiousness of men and flies.   Yet the absence of the imagination had Itself to be imagined. The great pond, The plain sense of it, without reflections, leaves, Mud, water like dirty glass, expressing silence   Of a sort, silence of a rat come out to see, The great pond and its waste of the lilies, all this Had to be imagined as an inevitable knowledge, Required, as a necessity requires.

Simple Beauty After Snowfall

There is a simple beauty when sunshine and snow are combined. I had to catch these images before the snow melted!

Creativity in Action

I knew when we began our study of Africa in social studies that masks would be a creative project to create and research. My seventh graders displaying their creativity from beginning to end.

11/11/11: Three Wishes

The topic today for NaBloPoMo is three wishes. My first wish is to live closer to my brother and sister. We always enjoy any time we can spend together, but it usually doesn't happen more that two or three times of year because of distance, jobs, and other commitments. My second wish is to have more water. We live in a rural housing community that has limited water during in the summer months. Well water is shared and we would love to be able to have our own unlimited free water so we could expand our gardens. My third wish is health. I wish good health for all my family and friends so we can experience joy in our lives for many years to come.

My Secret Passion

Today's topic for NaBloPoMo asks the question, "What is your secret passion?" Now I have very public passions which include photography,poetry,gardening,baking, and writing. My secret passion? Mary Janes. I always loved Mary Jane's when I was a little girl. They went out of style when I was in high school and college. A few years ago I became obsessed with finding Mary Janes that were comfortable, yet stylish. My collection is growing! It is one thing my students always notice... my Mary Janes.... especially my red patent leather ones. 

I Am Thankful for Words

These are some of my favorite words I am thankful for:

The Joy of Writing 

Why does this written doe bound through these written woods?
For a drink of written water from a spring
whose surface will xerox her soft muzzle?
Why does she lift her head; does she hear something?
Perched on four slim legs borrowed from the truth,
she pricks up her ears beneath my fingertips.
Silence - this word also rustles across the page
and parts the boughs
that have sprouted from the word "woods."

Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they'll never let her get away.

Each drop of ink contains a fair supply
of hunters, equipped with squinting eyes behind their sights,
prepared to swarm the sloping pen at any moment,
surround the doe, and slowly aim their guns.

They forget that what's here isn't life.
Other laws, black on white, obtain.
The twinkling of an eye will take as long as I say,
and will, if I wish, divide into tiny eternities,
full of bullets stopped in mid-flight.
Not a thing will ever happen unless I say so.
Without my blessing, not a leaf will fall,
not a blade of grass will bend beneath that little hoof's full stop.

Is there then a world
where I rule absolutely on fate?
A time I bind with chains of signs?
An existence become endless at my bidding?

The joy of writing.
The power of preserving.
Revenge of a mortal hand.          By Wislawa Szymborska