Had a bout of insomnia last night, but no worries. Cynthia Lord's new book, Touch Blue came in the mail yesterday, and I had a wonderful time reading it through the wee hours of the night.
It's a great book and I read it straight through. Loved seeing how it had changed since I first read the manuscript years ago, and loved to see characters or situations that I remembered and loved as well.
It's so much fun watching the progression of books, seeing how people think, analyze plot, add to characters... You don't get to see that just picking up a book at the library. It helps to remember that all books go through that transformation from first idea to the more complicated story that touches our hearts. As I pick up my manuscript today, I'm thinking of this book and following the threads that make it work so well. I need to add more of those wants and needs to my own story, not just following the activities of what goes on each day...
Thanks for the inspiration Cindy, and congrats on a fantastic new novel! I'll be touching blue for luck, or perhaps collecting it from now on, and thinking of you. And that three times around a button for luck.....that just might make it into my art room this year, as we have a whole bucket of buttons in the collage drawers.

I'm having my knee replaced this summer, which will require me to be sitting in one spot for physical therapy for about a month. After flipping through the TV today, I realized that I won't last very long trying to keep occupied with those offerings. I also realized that I haven't been up to date on books this year (taking a technology course that took all my time and energy).

So, I'm looking to develop a nice stack of books to read during my recuperation. Any suggestions? Old or new, I'm hoping to get caught up on things I should have read and haven't gotten to. Kind of like having a beach day, every day... Read the rest of this post

Check out the far left egg. It's mine. I'm thrilled, and in very good company.

these are the eggs I painted for the Open Fields School Goose Egg Auction. It was fun painting them. I hope that someone likes them. I think there is a real talent to photographing things like this, and I don't have it. But at least you can get an idea of what they look like. The individual strokes and layers of paint are not so obvious in person. Good Luck to the Open Fields School. I can't wait to see the rest of the eggs. For more info go to www.openfields.org and look under events: the great goose egg auction.

I'm very excited to be heading to a poetry retreat soon. It's my second year and I am thrilled to have found a master poetry class, one that doesn't spend all it's time on the basics. Not that I don't need to be reminded again and again about the basics, but to have something that stretches your mind as well as your metaphors is fantastic. This year I am headed to NJ to a workshop taught by Kathleen Driskell, a southern poet. I haven't read her books yet, but her latest, "Seeds across Snow" is on it's way to me this week. We also need to read "Late Wife" by Claudia Emerson, also a new poet to me.


I'm really looking forward to this time off to read books again, especially poetry books. For the last few months I've been running and haven't taken the time to delve into any worlds other than my own. This week I'm trying to remedy that. Just read Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson. I've never read a better description of the pain of low self esteem. She captures beautifully (can you say that when it is so horrible?) the way your mind talks to you, telling you/convincing you of it's own truth. Also on my list this week is "Life as we knew it" by Susan Beth Pfeffer and finally (it hid itself on my shelves for so long) "the people of Sparks" by Jeanne Duprau. It's good to be back to reading, and I hope writing again this week. Can we have another week off from school, extend it just a little longer???

Got my Goose Eggs to decorate for Jo Knowle's school auction. I'm so excited. Can't wait to start them. But where to begin. There are so many ideas. I haven't done any artwork for a while (or writing or anything this fall I'm afraid) so I'm very excited to get my hands on the paints and play. Not that I haven't had my hands in paint. As an art teacher, I'm always covered with it. But I rarely sit down and do things for myself. Tis time I will.

Jo asks that we take 21 questions and write them into a poem. I thought I'd take a stab at this before I go to bed.
Hers is great.

10 Questions (I'm falling asleep and so can't do any more..)

Who am I?
Am I my job, my passions or my dreams?
Am I three people in one,
or one, split into three?
How do others describe me?


Am I hidden within a mirror
or hiding behind a memory?
Does my soul stand outside my wrinkles?
Without skin, would you still
recognize me?

Do intentions count
or are they dreams of who I'd rather be?
Are actions the limit of my possibilities?
Do emotions rule my life, or just me?


Do I see in others what I want to see?
Do their ambitions make up our we?
Is there a reason I am me?

In an odd surreal way, it was like putting on a play with all of your best friends. For 4 days we worked on publicity, set design, scripting, stage managing, music and video to show the depth of our affection for the patriarch of our large extended family. One of ten, with ten siblings on my mother-in-law's side as well (my husband has 60 first cousins) Dave, Sr. was loved by a lot of people. How could we show that love and comfort people at the same time?

We did it through photos, hundreds and hundreds of them. And it worked. People found their own photo connections to Dave, and memories in the dozens of parties he held over the years. They laughed at their own images in the 1950's and 60's and marveled at how cute everyone was as babies. They were mesmerized by a video display, mere transitions making the images come to life as the camera scanned across the photos or faded in and out. And we brought in props, spreading hockey uniforms and volleyballs around the room in order to prompt stories of the first time they were allowed in the adult games....

My husband, the writer who has to type things out before he truly knows what he thinks, wrote an amazing eulogy. And while his brothers have always outshined him in sports, this time his skills outshone the rest as he found the words they wanted to say, but weren't able to express.

I had always thought I would write poems when our parents died. But my teacher/organizing skills were more powerful than my writing skills, and a poem just wouldn't come. I know it will, some afternoon when the world is quiet and I am alone with my memories. So for now, I'll let them churn, surrounded by the love I brought back with me from all our families and friends. And though my tribute to Dave, Sr. will be late, it will not be absent. Dave, Sr. has been with me almost as long as my own father, and his lessons, though quietly taught, will stay with me forever.

I will end with a toast to my dear father-in-law, as he said for so many years "here's to bread, for without bread, there would be no toast".

Writing nearly nothing lately, but this summer I did some rewrites of a book I'd been working on for many years. A picture book, mind you, nothing long. I started it with a thousand words, then got it down to 750, and finally wrote it down to 450 after a critique. This summer, I rewrote it a dozen different ways, each time focusing on something different but never getting it right. I took one summer version recently, and tried it again. This time, torn down to the very basics of the story. It is 57 words. All sounds.
I don't know for sure if this is it. But it does tell me what I still love about the story. Have you ever reduced a book so drastically?

Cynthia Lord's post got me thinking about memories. My father-in-law is dying of cancer, and it hurts to see someone so loved in pain. But the one thing that seems to help me through it, is that we are all focused on memories. We've been working with him to fill out a parent's memory book. It has brought up so many stories we had never heard, from just a few well worded questions. And those stories led to other stories, and research in the family as other siblings chimed in with what they remembered from their youth. Over and over I heard, "I never knew that" or "I've never heard that story before". And I realize that once our kids are grown, and we don't see them as often, we are so busy catching up that we don't share many of these tiny moments. And those moments are the ones that we cherish. They are the way we remember someone. We don't really care about the memories of putting in a new kitchen floor or the bargain we got on the new washing machine. What we care about is how an uncle would dangle us upside down by our feet, or how a chemistry experiment accidentally set the curtains on fire, or when trying to read secretly in bed, we nearly set the whole house on fire by stuffing a cloth into the lamp to dim the brightness.
Those tiny stories of our lives are what make us smile and get us through the hard times.

So, for my own kids....a tiny memory. This week, the boys in my art studio class were so excited to start a project (any project), that while I was explaining, they were all busy tearing up the cardboard scraps at their tables. Then, as they came up to ask me questions, I was surprised to see cardboard mustaches and beards taped to their faces. I laughed. You wouldn't believe the variety of textures and shapes you can get out of torn cardboard. I only stopped later to wonder what the principal would think if he had come into my room to see kids in "disguise", busily working on their paper mache constructions. This is one of the reasons I like teaching art.

I've been writing every night. But that writing is working on lesson plans and sub plans, curriculum night and assessment rubrics. NOT the writing I need to do on my own manuscripts.
Each year it should get smoother, and in a way, it does. I don't stress as much and I enjoy the kids so much. But because I don't want to be one of those teachers that do the same thing year to year, I end up writing new lessons for new ideas, adding in new technology, writing new grants...
I haven't felt inspired to write/finish rather, my own personal writing. I'm just not motivated. (Or is my mind just too tired?)
So my new assignment is to delegate time when I can only write on my personal work. No school stuff, home stuff, planning, party or preparatory stuff.
And maybe I'll be able to have something done for my next crit group on Nov.1st. Wish me luck.

We are challenged this week to write a multi-chaptered poem about summer, based on Wallace Stevens' "Thirteen ways of looking at a Blackbird" http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15746


A Teacher's Summer

1.
Hurray, What a day
to roll over and sleep-
to be given a chance
to go deep in a dream
or a thought
or a prayer
without fearing the thief
who sits watch, every morn
at my feet.

2.
I had forgotten
what it was like
to be quiet
inside,
to walk with the trees
and hide in the solitude
of my mind.

3.
My knees feel better
and my back
and my feet.
Maybe it's the icecream
or some other treat
of indulgence, or decadence
stored up inside
cushioning the soul
from it's year long ride.

4.
Why do
summer chores
always exceed
the time
allotted to them?

5.
My classroom floors
are waxed so white
that I shade my eyes
reflecting the light,
and wonder how bright
the new year
shines
for my students?

6.
New ideas
crowd my brain
until I am nearly
pushed
from my room
with anticipation.

7.
New year, new lives
new plans, new eyes
staring wide-
thirty faces
trying to hide
their fears and hopes
boxed up, inside.

As I'm trying to learn as much as possible about backwards planning and project learning, I find myself going from one link to another to another until I'm overwhelmed with information. The blogs are amazing, and though not exactly what I was looking for, interesting and powerful. But one facinating article leads to another until I want to just throw the computer out the window. There is so much to learn, and I just can't do it all......Unfortunately,I sometimes get this way about writing too. Why isn't a way to brain dump and be done with it all?

Our school system is trying to switch everyone over to project learning. And they are doing it well. Instead of demanding that everyone do this style, they are offering courses at absurdly low prices and encouraging related courses like differentiated learning and assessment training, etc. I think it is the osmosis style of learning. If we see it enough and hear it enough, eventually we'll become interested.I think that is how I am with writing. I take courses and read information, and if I do it long enough, parts of it start to make sense.

One of the things that I do like about project learning, is the backwards planning style of trying to figure out what are the big questions you are dealing with (the essential questions: such as, "What motivates artists" and "How does primitive art relay meaning") and the understandings, what you want kids to come away with (such as "all societies use art" and "where you live effects what type of art you make."

I've never done that with writing, and I've rarely done it with teaching. Usually with both, I go at the lessons, and take the big meanings from them by the end of the lesson. But what if we went at it the other way? I'm going to be doing this with my lessons this year, and I think I'll try doing this with my writing as well. Although I am usually much better with just writing fast and going with the experience....maybe if I know a little more about where I am going, I won't get stuck as much. Something to think about!

I am so excited to start using video in my classroom. With only two weeks left before school starts, I'm going to be practicing a lot. Thank you to all of you who voted. This is a new technology for me. I remember years ago working with a summer camp and showing a shaky, messed up home movie we made and telling everyone it was avant garde and to enjoy the freshness of it all. But with this digital video, I can edit. What fun.
Again, THANK YOU.

What would I do without challenges. They inspire me when I don't have the energy to write on any of my long term projects. I guess I love to write fast, not work at it. oh dear....
Thank you again to Miss Rumphisus Effect and her great challenges. http://missrumphiuseffect.blogspot.com/2009/08/monday-poetry-stretch-clothes-make-man.htm
This week her challenge is to write about an article of clothing. Mine is a head topper, that wondrous character-maker that nearly everyone in my family has been infatuated with at some point in their life.

Ode to felt, and other oddities

l am suave, debonair
or pretty in pink,
toppled with feathers
or splattered with ink.
Foldable, totable
delicate lace
rainproof, hoofproof
motorcycle chase.
Covered in fruit,
ribbons, flowers or fur,
softened in leather
I make women purr when
they walk into church
on a Sunday morn, or when
drinking mint juleps
outside on the lawn.
I crown kings and emperors,
scare away crows,
I speak with authority-
mask people's woes.

--diane m. davis

The Miss Rumphius challenge is to write a dictionary poem similar to Lohren Green's work and his "Poetical Dictionary."(http://www.amazon.com/Poetical-Dictionary-Lohren-Green/dp/1891190172)
The poems in this book are written in the form of a dictionary entry (pronunciation, etymology, and definition) Here is my attempt at this.

levi·gate (lev′i gāt′)
to grind to a fine powder
or paste, to smooth as a verb levigated -·gat′ed,
or make smooth [ L levigatus, pp. of levigare] levigating -·gat′·ing
like the potter who
suspends his clay in water, separating
fine particles from course,
keeping only the middle
to make his homogenous forms.
Some would say that clay so pure
is apt to crack when
under stress, though
most potters prefer
levigation
for its soft and easy
manipulation.

I'm trying to win a mini-grant for school. In order to win this grant for a flip video camera, I need to be in the top ten vote winners. Would you please vote for me? Voting ends August 10th. Go to this site to cast your vote.
thanks in advance. I'm third down on the page: Diane Davis: Growing as an artist

http://media.weareteachers.com/watmicrogrant/digital/applicantlist.php?page=5&sort=lname&by=asc

I was lucky to get a copy of Jo's new book at the Simmon's Summer Institute this weekend. I was excited to find myself in a book that I just couldn't put down. In fact, I read half of it before going to bed last night, and had to pick it up first thing this morning to find out the rest of the story. I haven't done that in a long time.

"Jumping Off Swings" is the story of a fragile girl, looking for love but misunderstanding what it really is.
As a result of a "one night thing", she becomes pregnant. This story is about Ellie and her friends as they
react and deal with a situation that changes all their lives.

Jo has amazing voice, in fact, four voices which read as completely separate, emotional individuals. Each chapter is written from the point of view of one of these friends, thrust into a situation they aren't sure how to handle. These characters become the protagonist of their own chapters, telling their stories in first person narrative which makes for a very emotional story. I found myself crying through several of the last chapters. When talking about situations as personal and as emotional as unwanted pregnancies, it is rare to hear the point of view of the father-to-be, or how he talks to his friends. Jo puts us into the hearts and minds of her characters, making us realize that despite how much or how little people speak, they all feel.

This was fun to try. You can make free 30 second videos (as many as you like) and use them for promotion or pay $30 (for a year?) and make them as many seconds or minutes as you want. Very, very easy to use. I'm going to play with this for school projects.

What would you do if you knew when you were going to die?
Would it change your way of life?
Have you made a "bucket list" of your own?

Sometimes they come all at once, in complete rhyme or rhythm.
But other times you sit and fiddle with one line here or there, tiny things that change the personality of the mc or
the direction of the rest of the story. And then you erase it, going back to the original story, and then you add in part of the line and a different direction. And then you erase a metaphor or simile. And then you put it back.....
This can go one for hours and hours.
Today is one of those days..... Read the rest of this post

I went to the Robert Frost farm in Derry NH today. It's only about a half an hour or so from my house. You'd think I'd have been there before, but I guess we don't see the things that are closest to us.
Robert Frost's poetry is something I came upon when I was in high school. I entered an oration contest, based on an essay I wrote about him. I like that his poetry is all mine, not something I discovered because my husband introduced me to it, or I learned it from my parents. In fact, I don't really remember studying his poetry in school although I must have. He's just someone I've always been interested in.

The house is a small farm house, with a large barn set on several well cared for acres. I was amazed that unlike the federal museums I've worked in, this house was almost entirely open. You could touch the soapstone sink or open the lids to the woodburning kitchen stove and look inside. The phone that Frost would listen in on (a party line) to get gossip as well as learn the local dialect was on a wall, easily approachable.The books he used to home school his kids are there, as well as a selection from his home library. When I worked at the Smithsonian or in the Lowell Museums, they stressed how oils from our fingers would wear away quilts, stain walls and mar metals. Here, there were no such worries. It was more of a tour of your great-grandfather's house. It made me remember what my son said about visiting Russia. There is no air conditioning or climate control in the buildings, and the famous paintings and furniture, etc. are displayed openly. It makes one wonder how long these things will last.

A few wonderful stories. They had two kid's bedrooms. The ones that got along the best that day, would sleep together that night. They painted all the floors red because they liked how vibrant and happy they looked, esp. at Christmas time against the Christmas tree. Frost was in charge of teaching the kids astronomy. He would have the kids each pick a star in the sky. They would then all study where it was, and how it moved through the seasons. That way, when they looked up in the sky, they would always see their family.

So often when we love a book, we idolize the author. But this first Frost farm (he had 5 in NE all together) made him more human to me than demi-god. He failed as a farmer, and yet all his poems are about the things you would find on a farm. A walking tour around the fields and through the woods helped me to see how his life was in his poems. Here is the fence he had to mend. Here is where he would sit and watch the butterflies on the milkweeds, here is where he would watch the turtles leap back into the water, or here is where he sat, exhausted after picking apples for days. He wrote about the little things all around him. And sitting there, surrounded by quiet and nature, I was able to think about his poems in a different way. I was able to take him off his pedestal and imagine him listening to the world around him, and thinking.

I was so pleased to see where "the pasture" was, and to hear that it was written as a love poem. I've always thought of it as a very romantic poem and even used it in my own wedding. What could be more loving than to say you want to do the simplest things in life with your partner, no matter how small.

I picked up the journals of his daughter, growing up on the farm. They are actually all scanned in the book "New Hampshire's Child" by Lesley Frost. I look forward to seeing how his emphasis of looking at the little things in their lives shows up in her journals as well.

This was fun. Take the verbs from various recipes, and create your own recipe for a non-food topic.I like the idea of a recipe for a landscape, and I may do that with my art students this fall.

Directions for Writing Recipe and How to Make… Poems

Write each direction in a separate sentence.
Begin each sentence with a carefully selected verb.
Try to use a different verb in each sentence.


How to Make a Quiet Place

Start with a rich, dense forest
of mature oaks, elms and maples.
Dig deep into it’s center, to eliminate
sounds of civilization.
Hull the tallest trees, allowing beams
of sunlight to fall diagonally to the ground.
Choose a large, smooth rock
and scoop out a spoon shaped ledge
for added comfort.
Sprinkle with mint, moss and wildflowers.
Add a dusting of summery breeze
and a favorite book
for decoration.

Quick, it's a sunny day. I'm out with the lawn trimmer faster than my cat, neva, is after a mouse. Skies are already starting to look gray, and I'm determined to get some of these knee high weeds out of my pergola before the next storm. But it's feast or famine around here. While yesterday we were looking for sweaters or flannels to throw on, today I'm sweating so much I can hardly see in only a half an hour. Ah well....parts to whole. I'll get these weeds eventually, if I have to pull them out by hand. Enjoy the sun!