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deterred by the small things

Lost Lake, Mount Hood

Normally I’d have a few more photos from a hike, but yesterday I came back with eight. And twice as many mosquito bites. And as many black fly bites.

I forgot my bug spray in a hiking season known for particularly bad bugs.

Hiking from the car to around the lake I used my bandanna as a horse tail, twitching and flicking, as incessant as the mosquitoes. We cut to the path that lead to the Pacific Coat Trail, our ultimate goal Buck Peak several miles out. (Lost Lake is a very popular camping and day use area and we wanted to get away from the crowds.)

But it got to be too much and we turned back to go to the small store in the populated campground. Luckily we starting talking to a trio of lake loopers who traded us Jungle Juice for a plastic trash bag and we set back up the trail. But even with the repellent the mosquitoes swarmed our faces and it was just too aggravating to go on. Not to mention that Jungle Juice doesn’t keep black flies from biting.

Even my hiking buddy was bothered by the mosquitoes, and she is usually nonplussed by them. (I am a magnet.)

It was so aggravating I just about cried in frustration at one point. I saw a cool frog (may he gorge himself silly) and couldn’t even stop long enough to take a picture or even admire him as much as I wanted to. Thankfully a breeze came up when we got back to the lakeside and were able to sit for lunch and admire fish jumping out of the water (may they gorge themselves silly).

Ugh.

It’s humiliating to be stopped by bugs.

We got six miles of hiking in. Yet I had to concentrate on what a gorgeous place this is unless there was a breeze.

Indian Heaven is out. That place is always buggy, so I can’t imagine what it will be like this year. Egads.

Tsuga mertensiana (Mountain Hemlock)

PS. I moved the bug spray sitting on my kitchen counter directly into my back pack.

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better late than never, right? (The tardy confession.)b

(l to r) Tiel Aisha Ansari, Deb Scott, Dale Favier, and Carolee Sherwood

Last Saturday’s Big Tent Poetry reading in Portland, Oregon was terrific, except for missing the organizing poet, Sage Cohen, who couldn’t be there. I am so fortunate to have been able to enjoy my very first reading in the company of good poetry friends.  It’s a day I will never forget. It felt so wondrous as to be like a wedding day (and I should know given the breadth of my experience in that department).

Thank you to the lovely friends and family who came in support, and the strangers, too.

I do hope it is not my only poetry reading because I had a great time.

* * *

I’ve been pretty quiet lately because of the reading (preparations for) and the Fun Times since I got to hang out with Carolee a bit.  I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’m still young enough to burn the candle at both ends (the recovery time is a little longer, granted).

I’ve also started working full time again as of July 1st. It’s been since fall of ’08 since I’ve worked full time for pay. And it takes a bit to get used to a full schedule again (I would be fine working 5 hours a day, I think).

I also got gifted an IPad from my boss as a thank you for hanging tough with her. It doesn’t have 3G, but I have wireless at home & at the office, and it is more fun than I could have imagined. I’m not usually a first-adopter. I tend to get a used version of the 2nd generation toys to play with and then buy the real deal once I am convinced its not a whim. But the IPad is great fun. I bought a drawing app for it and hope to do some visual art (which is something I had been wanting to take up again — I love drawing). I’ll share once I’ve gotten a handle on the tool. I’m thinking to combine poetry and art in some way, as yet to be determined.

Of course, I want to try video poetry, too, and haven’t even started to play with that. So much to play with. And not enough time.

* * *

I’m not even posting daily pictures at Momentile right now. Bah.

* * *

I was a slacker last week with Big Tent Poetry — didn’t get everyone read, and may not this week either. Bah. I haven’t been writing much, either. And then next is the long weekend to the North Umpqua River and Steamboat Inn. No internet, no cell service.

I have some cool questions to think about and perhaps write on.

And I am super-behind on my poetry reviews for a Goodreads group (that I enjoy so much, even though I am not contributing).

I’m a little behind on my reading, too. Got some great nonfiction and poetry going. Heaps of books. And a selection of short stories for next month’s writer’s book club that I belong to.

* * *

Tomorrow is a writing group at my house in the morning followed by lunch made of home grown romaine and home-made Caesar dressing with Mark-smoked chicken breast (yes, do — come on over). Afterwards is helping with a friend’s wedding set-up and the wedding early evening. Sunday is a hike, TBD by my hiking buddy.

Phew!

I better get to bed. Or get to writing.

I’m heading to bed!

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The Instinctive Loving Response

The Instinctive Loving Response is what people do to avoid actual or perceived entrapment in trees. And it does not look like most people expect. There is very little hedge-trimming , no laughing, and no singing or sighs of any kind. Loving does not look like loving – it looks like this:

1. Loving people’s mouths alternately sink below and reappear above the bubble of trees. The mouths of loving people are not above long enough for them to exhale, inhale, and call out for greetings. When loving people’s mouths are above the surface, they palpitate quickly as their mouths start to sink below the bubble of trees.

2. Loving people cannot wave greetings. Nature instinctively forces them to extend their arms laterally and press down on the tree’s surface. Pressing down on the bubble of trees permits loving people to leverage their wings so they can lift their mouths out of the trees to breathe.

3. From beginning to end of the Instinctive Loving Response people remain upright in trees, with no evidence of a supporting limb. Unless induced into therapy by a trained friend, these loving people can only struggle on the edge of a branch for 20 to 60 years before soaring occurs.

This doesn’t mean that a person  singing  greetings or dancing isn’t believable – they are experiencing suspended disbelief, but unlike true loving, these actors can still assist in their own rescue. They can grab lifelines, throw rings, etc.

* * *
This odd found prose-poem (or maybe just prose) uses the idea of replacing one word or phrase for another as a secret code.  I wanted to take it one step further and superimpose my hands over the text to see what happened (do a bit of graphic editing), but I think I have run out of time for this week’s experiment. But I will be back to it. I had all kinds of strange ideas popping in my head (such as that code talking might just allow me write a love letter to my mother — a hard request to fulfill when it has been asked for.)

Thank you Nathan Landau for fun and provoking ideas!

Find other ideas about what the prompt meant here, at the Big Tent.

Oh! The original content came from “Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning,” an article a Facebook friend linked, and which is probably a good read for those who enjoy water recreation.

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rock & paper on the trail

It’s been a late entry into the hiking season: a chilly wet spring followed by a long summer cold put me off my usual stride. And my primary human hiking buddy had one knee replaced in the spring and was just feeling good enough to go out last Sunday. We did a short hike on the east side of Mt Hood, one of those hikes that’s been long on our must-do list, but a short enough hike with a 95-mile drive to never have enticed us before: Tamanawas Falls.

The waterfall at the end of the trail was nice, and mist rising from a bowl is welcome in the heat, but it was not as fabulous as many we’ve seen. The wildflowers were good, but not great, although in another week the avalanche lilies will be gone, and the queens’ cups, too. And there was plenty of lupine and bunch berry, and twin flower and other pretty flowers, too.

We were rewarded with a wonderful display of rock in one spot especially, and I was fortunate to spot a paper wasp nest with a most unusual entry. I’m guessing the long neck may serve some unknown-to-me function, but am not sure what it is. Keep out predators? Serve as a better conditioning modulator when the nest bakes in the hot sun?

What surprised me most, after the length of the nest’s neck, was the size of the wasp. He (she?) was huge! I’d say the size of the end of my thumb, from joint to nail. I was astounded he (she?) could tuck in and climb the neck of the nest!

(Click through a few times to get to larger photos.)

The close up in the middle picture is just about to full size! The wasp was quite beautiful, and very fuzzy as well as surprisingly large. I’d say half again as large as a yellow jacket. I don’t think it is a European paper wasp because it was not smooth coated. I’m guessing she must be a she and the queen.  It’s a little difficult to find online sources for particular kinds of wasps or hornets — most of the time you get taken to a extermination site.  What I have found don’t look like this one. Strange and interesting.

The rock formations are beautiful, too. Such a dynamic place, this stratovolcano, dormant for over 200 years, but not without life.

Coincidentally I am reading John McPhee’s Annals of the Former World. It is slow going but delightful. I just wish I could remember a fraction of what I am reading.

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what did you say?

The Line Forms Here

The line forms her.

The line conforms to her.

The line deforms her.

The line is a free-form her.

The line informs her.

The line — malformed; her.

The line misinforms her.

The line performs for her.

The line will not reform her.

The line is true-to-form her.

* * *
This week’s prompt at Big Tent Poetry was to change a word relationship, to tweak it so the reader/writer sees the phrase or word pair in a new way. I had hoped to do more with the idea than a simple list poem, but one has to follow the muse sometimes, no matter what. Actually, with a little more time & thought, this idea might transform into something of interest.

Strange word thought: malform rarely occurs as a third person verb. It is usually always a past-tense verb. Or rather an adjective.

Find other responses to the word-morph challenge here.

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Big Tent Poetry Celebration Reading

In case my three followers didn’t know, I am getting to read my poetry along side an amazing group of poets. I am completely excited, and a little nervous, too. I’ve made my selections and am practicing so as to keep up with my brilliant friends. And I keeping pinching myself. This is so cool!

If you’re in Portland I hope you’ll come. If you’re not able to, geographically or otherwise, I hope we’ll be able to video the event. (Still trying to work that out.)

* * *

Big Tent Poetry Celebration Reading

Saturday, July 17, 12:00 to 1:00 p.m.

Big Tent Poetry Celebration Reading
St Johns Booksellers
8622 North Lombard Street
Portland, Oregon

Sage Cohen will be hosting a Big Tent Reading on Saturday, July 17 featuring a number of poets involved in Big Tent Poetry. This online site provides weekly poetry writing prompts, friendly community, inspiration and fun. Come on out and celebrate poetry with Big Tent Poetry founders, contributors and participants.

Featured poets will include Tiel Aisha Ansari, Sage Cohen, Dale Favier, Deb Scott and Carolee Sherwood. We’d love to see you there. Get the details at Sage’s blog, Writing the Life Poetic. Or you can get them at the Facebook Event page. (Actually, all the details are here, but it’s nice to cross link the love.)

* * *
Sage Cohen is the author of Writing the Life Poetic: An Invitation to Read and Write Poetry (Writers Digest Books, 2009), The Productive Writer: Tips and Tools for Writing More, Stressing Less and Creating Success (Writer’s Digest Books, forthcoming in December 2010) and the poetry collection Like the Heart, the World.Find out more at “Writing the Life Poetic.”

Tiel Aisha Ansari is a Sufi, martial artist, and data analyst living in the Pacific Northwest. Her work has appeared in Islamica Magazine, Untitled Country Review, The Lyric, Barefoot Muse, and the VoiceCatcher anthology. Her poetry has been featured on KBOO, Prairie Home Companion and MiPoRadio and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her collection Knocking from Inside is available from Ecstatic Exchange. You can visit her online at “Knocking from Inside.”

Dale Favier is a massage therapist and a database administrator in Portland, Oregon. His poems have appeared in Qarrtsiluni and the print anthology Brilliant Coroners.  Pindrop Press will be publishing a chapbook of his poems, Opening the World, this fall. Drafts of his poems and essays appear regularly, you might even say inexorably, on his personal diary, “Mole,” and he writes a column, “Minding Words,” for the Writing the Life Poetic Zine.

Carolee Sherwood is a painter, mixed-media artist and poet from New York State. Her poetry has been published recently in Pirene’s Fountain, Awakenings Review, Scythe and Hobble Creek Review and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She was one of the folks behind the poetry magazine and community Read Write Poem and is part of the creative team that produces Big Tent Poetry. In addition, she co-edits Ouroboros Review and writes reviews for Poets’ Quarterly. Read more about Carolee at her blog.

Deb Scott lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and pets. She blogs at “Stoney Moss” and was one of the folks behind the poetry magazine and community Read Write Poem. These days she is one of the ring-leaders at Big Tent Poetry. Deb’s poetry, prose and photography are published or forthcoming in a number of journals, including Qarrtsiluni, Tiny Words and Right Hand Pointing.

* * *

Big Tent Poetry aims to create a fun, inspiring, motivational and supportive community for poets at all levels of writing.

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The Hostile Witness

The Hostile Witness

Why won’t you answer my question?
There is more than one answer.
Why won’t you answer my question?
There are more colors of blue than can be counted.
Why won’t you answer my question?
Names conceal as much as they reveal.
Why won’t you answer my question?
The starlings are mating and building nests.
Why won’t you answer my question?
I can’t hold enough words in the palm of my hand.
Why won’t you answer my question?
Swimming floats with the intensity of bees.
Why won’t you answer my question?
There is not enough time to watch every sunset.
Why won’t you answer my question?
My measuring spoons were lost in the move.
Why won’t you answer my question?
The answer trickles from an O below my third eye.
Why won’t you answer my question?
There is more than one answer.

* * *
I’ve been flummoxed by this apparently simple prompt of Jill’s over at Big Tent Poetry. So I simply went with my writer’s block and created something of a poem with it.

I am absolutely sure there are many, many unique responses to the “conversation” here. I’ll be around to read them on Sunday.

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wordless Wednesday

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checking in

We have a  house guest, Bella, whose family is in Argentina until mid-July. She is a little bit of a worrier, but is settling in nicely, except for the neighborhood fireworks. She arrived Tuesday night and got a bath, nail trim, foot-hair trim on Friday. She’s getting frequent walks and seems happy.

When she first visited (a month ago, so we could make sure she was okay with Sport & the cats) she didn’t think much of Sport. Now they are actually playing, although she is a bit of a ball hog. I hope to film a bit of that and post it on Vimeo for her people/my friends to see, especially their 7 year old son.

Poor Joey. He got sick a week ago (starting Thursday before Bella came) and it took until Wednesday for him to get a diagnosis. Thankfully the supportive care he was getting was what he needed to help with his condition (moderate to severe feline pancreatitis, a very complicated disease to diagnose and to treat) and now we know what was wrong last year. Last year he simply improved but we didn’t know anything about the what or why — last year’s care may have or may not have helped. Poor fellow is too big, and next week he’ll start a low fat- high fiber diet. And if the symptoms return, the supportive care can start earlier.

Clearer eyed.

Comfortable.

Happy to expose his shaved belly instead of sitting on his paws. Sure sign of feeling better — as well as not hiding, and being able to eat, drink, and recycle.

Now if we can get Sport’s little stomache thing worked out. And my head cold to disappear. And Mark’s (who got it from me).

The healthiest one in the house is little miss 17-year old Frida. What a pistol.

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wordless Wednesday

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