January and Poem of The Week

The month of January has been hard, but not as hard as December. The cold weather has finally set in and it wears me down as cold weather does. But there have also been good things. I’ve been taking an intensive course on International Maternal and Child Health which has been enjoyable, I have submitted my study abroad application for next year, and come April, I will be costuming a new show, as lead designer. Things are looking up though there is still a of of winter left to go. I only have one more week of classes before my week off, I want to make it a good one.

Links:

I’m starting valentines now in the hopes that I might finish them on time this year 🙂 My focus right now is on the language of flowers I’m primarily using Kate Greenaway’s “Language of Flowers” but I’ve also heard good things about “The Language of Flowers” edited by Miss Ildrewe

On the topic of Valentine’s Day, there’s also this link to instructions on how to make roses out of hard candy (which is exactly my kind of crazy) and a Red Velvet Fudge recipe

On the topic of fudge, now I want to make German Chocolate Fudge because it sounds amazing

For other food, things I want to make include, semolina pudding (which I remember from my childhood), this breakfast panzanella (I am literally always up for panzanella and have I mentioned how amazing Molly Yeh’s photography is?) and this recipe for sarson ka saag which I have never heard of before

On a completely different topic, I’ve started bullet journalling for real (as in I now know what it’s called). Sites I’m really loving for inspiration are Blue Paper Trail, Without Elephants, Boho Berry and Tiny Ray of Sunshine.

Continuing the school theme, I read some great articles for my class including this one on group prenatal care. I also discovered this public radio series on birth.

Poem of the Week:

Next Time Ask More Questions
Naomi Shihab Nye, 1952

Before jumping, remember
the span of time is long and gracious.

No one perches dangerously on any cliff
till you reply. Is there a pouch of rain

desperately thirsty people wait to drink from
when you say yes or no? I don’t think so.

Hold that thought. Hold everything.
When they say “crucial”—well, maybe for them?

Hold your horses and your minutes and
your Hong Kong dollar coins in your pocket,

you are not a corner or a critical turning page.
Wait. I’ll think about it.

This pressure you share is a misplaced hinge, a fantasy.
I am exactly where I wanted to be.

Copyright © 2015 by Naomi Shihab Nye. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on April 9, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.

Update, Links and Poem of the Week

This week is the last week of classes before finals and so I have been caught up in the whirlwind of it all. I have a great many things to do, but not more than it is possible to manage which stands out in stark contrast to my midterm exams. If anything it is the life tasks pulling me under rather than the school tasks. I am eagerly looking forward to the end of this semester which has been hard and unpleasant in even more ways than I anticipated. I’ve been considering trying to take an online class overlapped with my other classes in order to better prepare myself for what I need to do in terms of extra work outside of regular enrollment but I’m concerned that 5 classes and two jobs may be too much. Luckily I have a little bit of time before I have to decide. The future looks bright and I can’t wait to get there.

Links
Marvel and ESPN have joined forces and it’s pretty great! Plus I was happy to discover many of my favorites (subjects and artists) made the list.
NPR’s book concierge is out and I’m really happy about because more books are just what I need.
It’s gift season. I’ve been looking at this general homemade gift board and this weekend knitting and crochet one
I’m really attached to the idea of making molten halva lava cakes when I get home for the holidays, my family will likely be less enthused.

Poem of the week

Maggie Says There’s No Such Thing as Winter
BY JANET MCNALLY
If you believe in snow, you have to believe
in water as it’s meant to be, loosed
from clouds arranged like asphodel. Because that’s
what it’s like to come back: a slow
surfacing, memory spiraling away. You can sleep
so long, whole seasons are forgotten
like a hospital-room plaster, spidered
with cracks in Portugal shapes. You can love
sleep like water, love your heavy limbs
pushing river and ocean aside.
After Maggie woke, the doctors had her stringing
bracelets of semiprecious beads, and she
couldn’t stop counting the kinds of blue.
Here, summer, in the high shade of a ginko,
she pulls up a handful of stones on silk
and we drink grapefruit seltzer, listening
to the tinny chime of bubbles
rising to the air. She can’t remember
autumn, so we tell her someday this tree will drop
its fan-shaped leaves all at once,
golden in the October crush
of every plant’s frantic strip show. Later
we’ll see mountains through the scrim of empty
branches, and if we can look straight up
into the atmosphere, see the same plain old sky
revolving. When we ask Maggie what color it is
she always says iolite, picturing beads
like raindrops, shining azure on the table.
She forgets that sometimes things don’t stay
where you leave them, that the sky fades
to white even before snow begins
to fall. It’s hard, but we have to tell her
even sapphires don’t glow blue
without some kind of help.
Source: Some Girls (White Pine Press, 2015)

Monday Morning

I am taking the morning off today, to eat sugary scones and think about nothing. After a few weeks of uncharacteristic warmth, the cold has finally hit with a vengeance. I’ve been thinking about the future this week, about what I want and where I’m trying to go. I have many things to be grateful for this week (and every other week), my family, my friends, my opportunities. This will be a week of celebrations.

Links:
These cloth tissue packs are simple but what a great idea
I want a yarn bowl for Christmas. I love this one but with my life, ceramic might be out of the question
It’s cookie season! My friends all tease me about being a snob with my “all natural” ramen and dislike of Kraft Mac and Cheese but when it comes to childhood favorites all bets are off (case in point: raspberry ribbon pie). I grew up in church basements and school bake sales and I am not above ooey-gooey cake mix bars.

Poem of the Week

November for Beginners
BY RITA DOVE
Snow would be the easy
way out—that softening
sky like a sigh of relief
at finally being allowed
to yield. No dice.
We stack twigs for burning
in glistening patches
but the rain won’t give.
So we wait, breeding
mood, making music
of decline. We sit down
in the smell of the past
and rise in a light
that is already leaving.
We ache in secret,
memorizing
a gloomy line
or two of German.
When spring comes
we promise to act
the fool. Pour,
rain! Sail, wind,
with your cargo of zithers!
November 1981
Source: Poetry (June 2012).

Sunday Funday

For the first time in weeks I feel like I might actually almost be on top of what I need to get done going into this week.

I’ve been thinking about tragedy probably more than I should in light of the deaths in Paris and the bombings in Beirut and everywhere else where people are losing their lives to senseless violence. There is no antidote to senseless violence but if there was, I would imagine that it would be purposeful kindness. With that in mind, I am resolved to do my part to be kind even when it is hard and perhaps especially then.

Links
I’m planning Thanksgiving dinner this week. It’ll be quiet this year, just three of us. I’m planning on making whole roasted cauliflower, corn bread,cranberry sauce, a vegetarian version of this stuffing, this turkey breast, the pie I mentioned yesterday and spiced cupcakes probably modified from this recipe which is always one of my go-tos.

Other recipes I’m feeling right now are these butter sandwich cookies and these glazed cookies.

After Flare Path, I’ve got the 40s on the brain. I’m loving this style board and this one with knitting. There were some really great sweaters going on.

Speaking of knitting, it’s yarn season. I’m making this scarf for my mum and when I finish that, it’s on to these gloves for my friend and this hat for our neighbors new baby.

It’s my baby sister’s birthday next week and I don’t know what to get her. I got her this book last year. I’ve been thinking about arts and crafts stuff. I remember loving this shrink plastic kit but it might be a little old for her. I’ll also be making cake of course. I’m hoping for something like thisfrosting wise.

I haven’t been reading lately but there are a lot of middle grade books on my to-read-list including The Glass Sentence, When You Reach Me, The Boundless, The Apothecary and many more. I also just finished Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo and it was great.

Poem of the Week
from The Hard Season by Kathleen Lynch

Don’t hold back now, have
chocolate, throw extra
kindling on, even though
skies urge cover & hoarding.
When mice pitter in
for crumbs, compliment
their small feet and fitting
ways. When your mouth
houses a curse, swallow,
think how you once
had no words at all
yet managed
your hungers.

Poem of the Week (+ poem of last week and links)

It’s hell week and I’m too tired to say anything interesting.

Links:
Recipes:
Cornmeal pound cake recipe
Bagel recipe
“Louisa’s cake” recipe

This Week’s Poem of the Week:

Approach of Winter
by William Carlos Williams
 The half-stripped trees
struck by a wind together,
bending all,
the leaves flutter drily
and refuse to let go
or driven like hail
stream bitterly out to one side
and fall
where the salvias, hard carmine,—
like no leaf that ever was—
edge the bare garden.

Last Week’s Poem of the Week:

Buckwheat
by Carl Sandburg
There was a late autumn cricket,
And two smoldering mountain sunsets
Under the valley roads of her eyes.
There was a late autumn cricket,
A hangover of summer song,
Scraping a tune
Of the late night clocks of summer,
In the late winter night fireglow,
This in a circle of black velvet at her neck.
In pansy eyes a flash, a thin rim of white light, a beach bonfire
ten miles across dunes, a speck of a fool star in night’s half
circle of velvet.
In the corner of the left arm a dimple, a mole, a forget-me-not,
and it fluttered a hummingbird wing, a blur in the honey-red
clover, in the honey-white buckwheat.
From Smoke & Steel

Poem of the Week and Links

This week’s poem of the week comes from Hoa Nguyen

Love and Level

by Hoa Nguyen

Love and level the sleeves
Eating is a hand
here        Leave laughing if you must
like leave this creamy celery root

We push out                     jerking
a sleeve of we    & I cover you
horses sourced in sea

(weave in waves and manes)

Hoa Nguyen, “Love and Level” from As Long As Trees Last. Copyright 2012.

Taiye Selasi has something to say about where she’s from
And it’s well said. I teared up at a couple points because it hit so close to home.

Why print in the darkroom?
Alternative and historical processes
I am looking forward to getting back into the darkroom sometime within the next month or so.

A super dedicated journaller

My family came to visit me this weekend which always leave me off balance searching for my place in my day to day life but this week was better than last week and I just need to hang on and ride the wave up and in.