the perfect tree

Despite dropping temperatures we made it out for our second annual tree-cutting. I went along for the ride and even managed to get out with both the twins strapped to me in the Moby wrap, but it was so cold and they were crying that we quickly retreated to the minivan and cranked up the heat and the Christmas music, nursed a bit, and did the proper ooh-ing and aah-ing when Mayumi and PapaQ returned dragging the most beautiful tree!
A quick drive down to the farm market was in order. While the strapping young lads there shook and baled our tree we indulged in hot cider and donuts and picked up some apples to take home. Since then there has been much merriment as the decorations have gone up.
What is it about a Christmas tree? Those gleaming lights, the ornaments collected through the years, those fragrant evergreen boughs...
Well, no one really wants to hear me wax poetic, so perhaps you'll welcome Mary Oliver's words:

When I Am Among the Trees

When I am among the trees,
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness,
I would almost say that they save me, and daily.

I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.

Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled
with light, and to shine."

~ Mary Oliver ~

Oh, to become closer to the hope of myself! I love how a Christmas tree indeed invites one to stop and stay awhile. Those twinkly lights, so hypnotic and soothing. 

More tree loveliness to come!

perched in my soul...

     

Hope is the thing with feathers 

That perches in the soul, 

And sings the tune--without the words, 

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard; 

And sore must be the storm 

That could abash the little bird 

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land, 

And on the strangest sea; 

Yet, never, in extremity, 

It asked a crumb of me.

~Emily Dickinson

It's hard not feel that resurgence of hope as things start to wake up from their winter's sleep. Though the winter was mild, it still left the earth brown and barren here. But little by little we see what Maya excitedly calls "signs of spring!" I also feel similar stirrings within me - desires to learn and grow and nurture and overcome some things that have been weighing me down. It's amazing to see these delicate snowdrops insistently pushing upwards towards the sun. So fragile, and yet they withstand such frosty weather. They are intrepid, daring to be the harbingers of the new season. 

Oh, the hope swells within!

a poetic day

There was something brilliant and rather poetic about our outing the other day. It was unplanned. We had finished some chores in the house and I realized Mayumi could really use some focused Mama time. Some time where she could be in control and make the decisions. So I asked her what she wanted to do and she announced that she wanted to go to the Museum of Natural History.

So we did.

We took our time - for once we didn't have to rush in order to meet friends. It was just the two of us and we had no real agenda...

Everything is so much more beautiful when you take the time to really see it. We noticed things we'd never noticed before, despite having been here so many times.

And since it was a Monday afternoon, it wasn't very busy. We practically had the place to ourselves. Maya led the way through the great halls and exhibits. 

And when she had asked all her questions and had her fill, we headed back. And when she requested that we stop and ride the carousel, we did.

Her smile was the most beautiful and poetic part of the day.

Poetry Perfection

The smell of ink is intoxicating to me - others may have wine, but I have poetry.  

~Terri Guillemets

Poetry is the language in which man explores his own amazement.  

~Christopher Fry

Part of our Christmas/New Year celebration is reading/writing poetry. Okay, it's something that we do year-round, but it is especially important now.

Traditionally poetry was a part of the Japanese celebration of the new year. Probably the most famous form of poetry in Japan is haiku. A haiku consists of three lines: the first line contains 5 syllables, the second line contains 7 syllables, and the third line returns to five syllable. Rhyming is optional. Topics are usually from the natural world, but these days anything goes. It's easy and can be pretty fun, so here are some ideas for your own poetry reading:

- gather your friends and/or family together and make sure there is plenty of paper and pencils to go around
- have everyone write their own haiku on the same subject (everyone writes about winter, things they're grateful for, favorite goodnight story, etc.). Each one gets to read their poem aloud OR select one person to read them all and everyone can guess who the author is.
- poetry circle: everyone writes a haiku and then passes it to the next person who then adds on their own haiku in response. Read them aloud!

Last year my friend, Lindsay, celebrated her birthday with a poetry slam and asked everyone to write a poem in honor of her and to be prepared to perform it.  The results were both hilarious and inspiring!  Everyone should have poetry in their life!

The only problem
with Haiku is that you just
get started and then
~Roger McGough

Little People

A dreary place would be this earth

Were there no little people in it;

The Song of life would lose its mirth,

Were there no children to begin it.

No little forms, like buds to grow,

And make the admiring heart surrender

No little hands on breast and brow,

To Keep the thrilling love-chords tender.

The sterner souls would grow more stern,
Unfeeling nature more inhuman,

And man to stoic coldness turn,

And Woman would be less than woman.

Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,
Were there no babies to begin it;
A doleful place this world would be,
Were there no little people in it.

~John Greenleaf Whittier

Poem for Today

This Is Just To Say

by William Carlos Williams

I have eaten

the plums

that were in

the icebox

and which

you were probably

saving

for breakfast

Forgive me

they were delicious

so sweet

and so cold

Breastfeeding: A Haiku

plump mammary mounds

the hungry smacking of lips

mama's milk is best

Post-pregnancy haiku

Tummy like bread dough

Finding time to exercise

Impossible feat

Gratitudes

Ever notice how somethings are almost magical in the way they are able to warm your heart and soul?  This morning was magical like that.  A butterfly fluttering by your shoulder.  Warm sun on your barefeet.  Picnic lunch with friends.  Children's laughter.  Am feeling so, so grateful that spring is on its way!

Some such Butterfly be seen

On Brazilian Pampas --

Just at noon -- no later -- Sweet --

Then -- the License closes --

Some such Spice -- express and pass --

Subject to Your Plucking --

As the Stars -- You knew last Night --

Foreigners -- This Morning --

~Emily Dickinson