Baba Yaga, her house ever spinning, casts dizzy spells: multiplies weeds’ thorns, exterminates unicorns, allows toxic fungus to fester, boils it in her tea. She piles her human-boned boundary sky high, ten thousand eye sockets blazing.
None can enter.
She’s grown weary of peasants’ petitions: food, shelter, clothes, cures. Endless. (Although, if pressed, she’d confess to finding revenge requests amusing.)
But now, her garden rots, unweeded. Her tunic needs mending. Her chicken-toed shoes stir up her floor’s thick dust. She coughs, covers her warty nose with her head scarf, exposes her balding crown.
In these crazybusy times, I have been keeping myself sane with the crazy business of reading, writing, gardening, and raising a new flock of chickens. Those of you who have been with me for a long time know that I also homeschool my children, a thing that used to set us apart from most of our friends and family. Now, everyone is doing it. How surreal!
(Side note: If you or any of yours have found yourselves suddenly faced with homeschooling and want to chat, complain, or brainstorm solutions, feel free to email me. We have been homeschooling for 18 years. Been there, done that, still learning.)
On Reading: Please join me here on Wednesday for more about that.
On Writing: I have been busy with several writing classes to help prepare for entry to an MFA in Creative Writing. As a part of that effort, I have been working on the craft of short story writing. If you are curious, hop on over to the Writer’s Workshop at the godoggocafe.com to read more (https://godoggocafe.com/2020/05/02/writers-workshop-iii-may-2020-story-structure-difficult-choices-and-birds/). For May’s workshop, I have shared one of my shorts and the assignment prompt that it was written in response to. For now, we have changed the format of the Workshop to a single prose prompt a month without the editing challenges. Everyone is busy, and life in the midst of Covid-19 is crazy. That said, I would love to have you join me in the Workshop for some fun writing challenges!
On Gardens:
On Chickens:
I have been a bit behind in my Monday posts. As these weeks go on, I will post some of my new poetry, a few of my short stories, and more posts like this, sharing a bit of what we are doing to make our lives at home as rich as possible in a day when we aren’t able to do much else.
This week, my family will be welcoming the first of a new flock of chickens. Those of you who have been with me a long time might know that we used to live out on acreage, complete with chickens, ducks, turkeys, and a large garden. We had relocated to the Madison area a few years ago and bought a house in town. While it had its conveniences, we all missed the land and the birds.
Last fall, we moved back into the country on ten acres in the beautiful Driftless Region of Wisconsin, land untouched by the last glaciation. In a few days, we will welcome the first of our new flock, three Cuckoo Maran hens. For me, it feels a bit like welcoming old friends home.
When the threat of coronavirus passes, we will all come out of our homes and reconnect with family and friends, strengthening our deepest bonds, breathing the fresh air, and revisiting familiar places. We will pick up where we left off, albeit with the changes that life demands. Still, we will pick up and carry on.
Stay safe and healthy, everyone.
This Tree
I’ve hiked this trail before winding through a wooded wonderland in awe today, air sweet with the detritus dampened by spring’s morning mists, I breathe lost in a tree-born revere my soul plays in the canopy my toe, earth bound, snags the arching twist of an exposed root hiding under last fall’s rotting leaves I stumble, startled catch myself against a tree its rough bark—a finger hold— steadies me I rest my back against this strong friend yes, this one whose rude root tripped me I trace the root back to this tree Guilty! Old Confidant! this friend responds with shaking laughter as the wind rattles bare limbs just stretching from winter’s rest this tree chuckles and breathes me
There is no turning back
Each push,
this birth a struggle
we will win
you and I,
my winsome child
Each push
a little closer
as you cross this swaying bridge
tethered
I’ve got you
almost in my arms
Let there be storms
I will hold you
comfort you, guide you
Each push
we’re almost there now
There is no turning back
to womb’s warmth
Fight through
the pain
the fear
and
cross
Welcome to your life
There is no turning back
my response to the following prompts from these awesome humans:
