Blackout Poetry

283 :: Blackout Poetry

Amie is teaching me how to do blackout poetry. We are both working with a page, copied from The Secret Garden, and creating different poems from the same text. The idea is to “black out” the words or word fragments you don’t want to use and then create a poem with the shape of what’s left. Have you ever done this before? I didn’t know about the world of Blackout Poetry until Amie showed me a google search of so many examples out there, both visually and word wise. Creating poetry from existing words on a page is such a different way to spend time with literature. I’m finding it fascinating. I could spend hours doing this sort of creative work if Wallace wasn’t dismantling the entire house behind me . . . doing his own version of blackout housework, I suppose!

A New Landscape Every Morning

281 :: This Color

The colors seem especially brilliant this year with all the rain and overcast skies.

279 :: Sisters on the Farm

281 :: Purple Mushrooms

More so than any season, in October I feel I’m like going out into a new landscape every morning.

280 :: Off We Go

278 :: Cosmos at Sunset

282 :: Boy Making Roads

I find that I want to spend as much time as I can outside, even in the rain.

278 :: Finding Asparagus

I want to tell you about reaching up
into the apple tree
to pick a wild apple,
when a shower came down from the leaves
and a drop fell on the corner of my right eye
and rolled down my face —
a single tear.

282 :: Apple Tears

Sage

277 :: Sage

Kneeling down
in the sage
after nighttime revelations,
headaches and sick toddlers,
rain for days,
cold and wet and lovely
and always
so many gifts outside
beckoning us to come
and gather.

“You make it too easy”
he said.

Too easy?
Should I reject “too easy,” I ask;
should I stay inside, withholding,
rather than walk into the wet, wild world
calling with rain?

October Green

273 :: Wooded

Bringing in the house plants that spent the summer outside; wondering at how much they’ve grown; getting soil all over the kitchen table and floor and counter . . .

271 :: Succulent

274 :: October Poetry

274 :: Maybe the Last Bouquet?

The greenhouse seed babies are thriving and this little man has been busy making a mud pit full of “hot cocoa” just outside the door. I’m thinning and he’s brewing; so come on over for some cool microgreens and warm drinks! I love gardening in this giant terrarium on the cusp of autumn. It’s such a paradox to watch new life burst forth as everything else outside slows down and lets go.

272 :: Back to Work in the Greenhouse

276 :: Mud Land

Truth

275 :: Leo Creek

I wished I had brought my Nikon camera. My old Olympus just doesn’t do well in low light. And yet, it was dark in there, in the evening, in the swamp. So, there is something about this photo that feels especially true.