Time
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Missing in action. That’s how I’ve felt, creatively (and emotionally), for the past two months. Little time to pay attention. Little time to be astonished. Little time to tell about it. I’ve failed to live by Mary Oliver’s instructions for living a life. Fall has always been a season brimming with activity: school starts, I
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I’ve come back to Mary Oliver after she popped up in the book I’m reading for enjoyment between preparing for school and repairing our fleet of cars! The book is Four Thousand Weeks: Time Management for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman (I know: enjoyment?), and Mary Oliver shows up on page 104. Of course, this sent
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One of the joys of being a teacher lies in the different duties we absorb to fill up any free time we might waste preparing lessons or grading student work. Of course that’s not really the case; we all have duties to perform. It’s just hard, sometimes, when you have a stack of papers that
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I would have loved to share the thirty second clip I took of Wolf Creek panning from the dam in the image above down through the smaller dams my sons and I created, on to the waters that slow as they pass the tire swing so you could more fully experience the sight and soundscape
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Between wrapping up the third marking period at school, putting all my creative energies into finishing my series of fifteen constellation songs (TWO TO GO!), and the busyness of Spring with speech and debate tournaments, announcing baseball games, and the seasonal “to do” list, I figured I would benefit from a stroll down memory lane
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My daughter has turned eighteen. As John Lennon once wrote, “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans” (“Beautiful Boy”). He understood, as a father, how quickly time escapes us. For all of us who have become parents, this truth is painfully real. It drives me more into the present, trying
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Spring is in the air! Here in Western Pennsylvania today, the temperature reached 71 degrees. We opened the windows and savored the fresh air and song of the birds. It reminded me of a welcomed distraction from earlier this week when I sat down to breakfast: a finch singing from my neighbor’s porch. And though
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Finally! Of all the color poems I’ve written for this series, violet was the most challenging. Admittedly, part of the issue was simply a matter of time. As I’m sure you’ve realized, there never seems to be enough of it! If only Jim Croce could have put time in a bottle… Writer’s block, or that
the deepening ground 