Poet Friend Visits, Flower and Pumpkin Farms, and Red Moons with Wildfire Smoke

Zinnias with wildfire smoke sun, McMurtrey’s

Wildfire Smoke, Red Moons, and Other Signs

September began with odd signs: red moons, smoke-smothered skies. Are we done with the apocalypse yet? I stayed inside the house most of the week, asthma and itchy eyes keeping me from my beloved garden. It is now said that we have three seasons instead of two in the Pacific Northwest, instead of Rain and Summer we have Rain, Summer, and Smoke. It definitely has been the case the last few years. September is usually a hopeful time for me, but it was hard to get into a better mood trapped in the house and feeling overwhelmed by the heat and heaviness of the air, not to mention the news. (Getting rid of all vaccines in Florida? That’ll be great for Americans’ health. Just kidding.) Tonight is a total lunar eclipse, a Blood Corn Moon, though we won’t see in here in North America. I can still feel the eclipses though—something about them makes me uneasy, jittery. If eclipses are a portent, what are they portending? Will it finally be something good?

Red moon, September

September 2nd was the book launch for our friend Martha Silano’s Terminal Surreal, which was online, and at which many people read Martha’s poems from the book since Marty is no longer with us. It was also Martha’s birthday. A reminder to celebrate your friends as much as you can while they are alive. I also thought about the fact that so many people talked about how much they loved Marty’s work—after she was dead. It would have been much appreciated while she was alive, I am sure. Writers rarely hear from their fans, until they are very famous, and often can’t tell if their work is reaching anyone or not. The last Best American Poetry was published that day as well, after announcing the series was ending. NEA grants and BAP going away? I don’t know if fewer accolades make for fewer readers or not. How do you find the poets and authors you love? Bookstore strolls? Reading reviews? Reading anthologies? Another thing to think about.

Kelli and I with dahlias, McMurtrey’s

Poet Friend Visits and Flower/Pumpkin Farms

In happier news, my poet friend Kelli Russell Agodon and her husband Rose came out for a visit and after brunch we made a field trip to McMurtrey’s where we saw gigantic pumpkins, tons of dahlias and sunflowers, and cut bouquets to bring home. It was nice to be outside right as the smoke started to subside, and the rain came back – which hopefully will help all the wildfires. I got to talk about poetry and enjoy fall blooms and, you know, try to do that thing where you celebrate the good things in life: friends, flowers, etc. Glenn’s credit for the photos.

McMurtrey’s Red barn, zinnias, and pumpkins

Today the air was finally clear enough to not even worry about carrying my inhaler or wearing a mask outside, and we took advantage of it by going out to another farm – Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin – and came back with a brand new batch of just-picked apples, sunflowers, and corn, as well as mustard, jam, and pickles. I also got to visit a bookstore for the first time in a long time which cheered me up as well. Just being around books makes me feel better, and seeing other people reading books. I’m such a nerd, right?

It was also cool enough to need a jacket, and that along with the pumpkin viewing put me in the right fall mood, I think. I will try to think positively, write poems, send out work, and finish the contest judging I’ve got in front of me. If the smoke and heat stay clear long enough, maybe my brain will function well enough to actually do those things. Many people with MS curse the summertime, with good reason – all that heat and sun short-fuse our systems. But fall is a season we can love, so long as it doesn’t mean everything’s on fire.

Happy September! Last Days of Lavender Gardens and Hot Air Balloons, Judging Poetry Contests, and Preparing for Fall

Happy September! Last Days of Lavender Gardens and Hot Air Balloons

This week was more gentle than the last few, despite some smoke and haze in the air keeping me from getting out as much as I wanted to. We visited McMurtrey Farm flower field just as a hot air balloon took off from just across the river (shot at left) among the sunflowers, and the next day we went to say our goodbyes to the local Lavender Farm (until September 20th, when it reopens as a local Pumpkin Farm!) We took home dahlias and daisies and sunflowers, enough for two bouquets and one for our neighbor. In boring homeowner news, we had our asphalt driveway repaved, which was too expensive, but I guess our HOA requires it now? I am reminded that homeownership is full of unexpected costs. But it is beautiful here. The hummingbirds are busy in the garden, as are the wasps, and baby chickadees, flickers, and Stellar’s jays. Below are some pictures from McMurtrey, which also becomes a pumpkin patch soon (and then a Christmas tree farm!)

And from the last day at JB Family Growers Lavender Farm:

Preparing for Fall, and Judging Poetry Contests

Although it’s still warm (with wildfire smoke), fall is approaching, and I’m already ready for dishes featuring delicata squash and our late-harvest corn. Getting the house ready for more visitors, I’m also trying to make space for my books (which my unread stack is now big enough for its own Ikea bookshelf) and changing up decor. My latest stack of books includes collections of ghost stories from other cultures, which should be fun. Our winery book club is reading Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier for September, a book referenced by so many of our recent club picks, it’s amazing. Were we all super spellbound by that book as teens, and now it’s creeping into our selections?

I’m also judging yet another poetry contest, this time for the SFPA. I judge contests once or twice a year, and I always wonder if people are sending their best work. I don’t send to many individual poetry contests, but I’ll tell you this—you probably have more of a shot than you think. You never know what an individual judge will like. And don’t take not winning personally. Who knows what any judge will like or dislike?

I’m also getting ready to get into poetry submission mode, as I haven’t been sending out poems much in the last few months. Too busy? Too discouraged? Feeling like poetry is maybe a waste of my time after twenty years and feeling like maybe I should switch genres? Maybe a little of each. September is a month of renewal, after all, with its shades of new pencils and new sweaters and of course, more new books. Housecleaning, closet cleanouts, and yes, taking stock of our writing and deciding where to spend our time and energy, with bouquets of dahlias and sunflowers around the house and pumpkin apple muffins in the kitchen.

Parents Visit and Sibling Visit, Getting Sick Under Stress, and Writers and Artists Dumped by the NEA

Three siblings and Glenn – My brothers Chuck and Mike and me and Glenn

Parents Visit, Sibling Visit, and Getting Sick Under Stress

A few days into my visit with my parents, which I posted about last week, and after a somewhat stressful few weeks (heat, emergency dental work, a cancer scare, and family stuff)—I started to feel terrible, and sure enough, my immune system was down, and I’d caught another virus. Still, we got in one last visit to a farm—this time, Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm in Snohomish—which was fun even if it was too early for pumpkins and even apples. Then the rest of the time the folks and I rested.

Then, the day the parents flew out, we had a surprise (but welcome) visit from my older brother, also from Cincinnati, who’s helping my little brother fix up his house for sale. Having three of us Hall siblings in the same place at the same time is practically like a meteor sighting it’s so rare, so I enjoyed the hang-out time, even if I was a bit under the weather the first few days of the visit. That’s the pic at the top of the post. I know I am lucky to have good relationships with my brothers, and I felt very lucky to be able to spend some time with them.

The NEA Has Decided to Terminate NEA Grants to Artist and Writers

Another piece of bad news (which has to be read through the filter of even worse news, of course) came through—people who applied for the NEA got the notice that their applications would not be read and NEA grants to writers and artists were cancelled. America just keeps getting greater, right?

I have never won an NEA grant—but it seems like another chip at the arts and academia and anyone that might not tow the party line from the Republicans. Writers and artists are notoriously not easy to control, and that’s not okay in Trump’s fascist government, as it hasn’t been with many dictators—Chairman Mao, Lenin, Hitler, Pol Pot. I had a friend post on Facebook that her lecture at an Air Force academy was cancelled after someone looked up her work online—although the people who invited her were apologetic, they were not in control. So, this government really is afraid of artists’ speech. Standing up to power has always been our job, but now there are more consequences. I posted on Facebook that Trump’s government is going to make all the talent with the means and energy to move leave the country, and someone commented that that was the point. Trump doesn’t want anyone here who dares to criticize.

Even though I’ve been fighting my health problems, I also feel like I’m fighting the anti-art forces as well, like a video game where you fight one boss, and six more appear. You know, writers and artists are already struggling to earn a living in a society that wants its art for free (or created by AI). Every little bit that’s taken away is a little bit of a chance for an artist to breathe easy, financially, for a little bit. I am struggling with how to earn a living as a writer and survive in a society that doesn’t value the sickly, or the disabled, and I am both. I mean, almost all of our writing heroes were sickly—not all, but a lot. I hope to keep writing, keep publishing, keep teaching and reading and mentoring. Maybe my body and my country throw up obstacles that sometimes feel insurmountable. As we head into a new season (though it’s still in the nineties here for some reason), I am looking for hope.

Parental Visits, End of Summer Flower Farm Visits, August Birds

Glenn, me, my mom and dad, McMurtrey’s Flower Field

Parental Visits and End of Summer Flower Farm Visits

My mom and dad came out from Ohio to visit me and my little brother this week, so we decided to take them to some of our favorite local hangouts, including a couple of our favorite flower farms—McMurtrey Farm and JB Family Growers Lavender Farm. After a day of heavy (strange) August rain, during which we watched a Hitchcock marathon, we were able to get out and enjoy the flowers, sunshine, and fresh air (rain is good for that). It was very good to spend time with family in my favorite places. I know my parents are getting older, so I wanted to celebrate the limited time we get together.

Goldfinch talking

End of Summer Birds

At all these fields of flowers, the finches have been twittering around us in the air. The hummingbirds are dwindling in number but still busy at the flowers as well. I’ll miss their bright colors and songs when the winter comes back. Some small parts of late summer are my favorite parts. (Wasps, not so much, but the birds, absolutely, and the blueberries in my garden this year—especially sweet.)

Immature hummingbird taking a drink

This is a busy month—my older brother is coming out to visit the week after my folks leave—I am trying to look at my schedule for the fall, with readings and classes. After the health and dental dramas of the past weeks, I am ready to relax a bit, hopefully. I’m also hoping my next book gets picked up soon so I can start focusing on my next writing project, which might be quite a different creature than my previous works.

In the meantime, my friends, this seems like a rough and tumble world, but there are tiny moments of joy, beauty, kindness to be found. Sending you all hopes for tiny, good August joys.

Full Moons, Insomnia, Ends of Summer Gardens in Bloom, and Writing Questions at Midlife

Mt Rainier with Sunflowers

Full Moons, Insomnia, End of Summer Gardens in Bloom

The lovely full Sturgeon moon of the last two nights has been my companion during a stretch of insomnia. Doctors blame either the heat/MS or my hormones, or anxiety, but heck, it could be all three!

After a week that included a painful crown and TMJ, a doctor appointment that arrived with bad news for me (and another damn cancer scare), money woes, and of course the relentless terrible news cycle, I mean, if I could sleep like a baby, maybe that would be the abnormal thing.

On the plus side, the late gardens are blooming—two of these pics are from the local Lavender Farm, JB Family Growers, but the other photos are from McMurtrey Farm, which has opened for flower gathering until they become a pumpkin farm (although I’ve seen evidence of many pumpkins already!)

By the time I write my next blog post, my parents will already have been visiting for a few days. Hopefully we’ll have cooler weather and no wildfire smoke for that week.

Writing Questions in Middle Age

I’ve also been questioning things like—should I even still be writing poetry, or is it time I give up on it and try something else? Should I spend my time doing paying work instead? It feels sort of futile to write poetry in today’s political environment—rampantly anti-academic, anti-art, anti-peace-tolerance-environmental-safety and pro guns, business and everything evil and destructive. It feels like no one is listening, even with much bigger platforms than mine. Maybe, I wonder, I should take up filmmaking. Maybe I should leave America for the adventure of exploring another country, another country, which might be more friendly to the arts (which seems like almost any country at this point). I could take up working at the local pumpkin farm (though heavy lifting would be out). I could sell makeup again. This may be a normal part of getting older. I can’t tell as I’ve never been this old before! Maybe things will make more sense when I can get more than an hour or so of sleep a night. I’ll check in with you next week.