Two new poems: "Climate" and "On finding a stone..."

 

 I have been fortunate enough to have two poems published this week. Oddly enough, they were both accepted during the same week back in February, and they appeared in publication only two days apart.

The first one, "Climate,"  appears in Stone Circle Review, a lovely new journal run single-handedly by editor Lee Potts.

I started writing this poem during one of the many gloomy, rainy days we had this past winter. (Did you know this was Ontario's darkest winter in over 80 years?) It began as more of a gripe than anything else, but the process of writing it really got me thinking about the bigger picture of what is happening to our planet.

Here's the first bit of the poem:

I hate winter rain, how it soaks
dirty snow heavy, sluices beneath ice
dams at the curb, how it seeps,
weighs....

(read the whole poem HERE)

 

  image courtesy of Stone Circle Review

 

The second of the two is called "On finding a stone to put in your father's casket" and appears in River Mouth Review. It's very fitting that it was published so close to the one-year anniversary of Dad's death. My brother Errol and I were the ones tasked with the stone-finding mission the morning of Dad's funeral; it's something I will never forget.

Here are the first few lines:

Morning of the funeral, you drive out
to the farm. Best not to disturb

the new owners, also the lane
is muddy and rutted, so you pull in

off the road...

(read the whole poem HERE)

 

image courtesy of River Mouth Review
(this is not the stone we picked up at the farm)

Red Roads

I haven't had anything published yet this year, so I was thrilled when Dust Poetry recently accepted my short poem "Red Roads." It appears in the latest issue and can be read HERE.

 I suppose poetry shouldn't need additional commentary (especially commentary that's longer than the poem itself!), but I thought I'd explain the impetus for this piece.

Last summer I went to PEI with Errol. The first evening we were there, I walked from my aunt Sigga's house (where Errol was staying), back to Lincoln's apartment (where I was staying). Sigga pointed out a shortcut -- a small dirt road at the end of her street that would take me back to the main road. I think it's actually someone's private lane, though I didn't know that at the time!

As I walked along this narrow lane, seeing the trees bending overhead and the Queen Anne's lace growing along the side, I felt like I was home again. It wasn't the same as our "little road" in New Argyle but under the circumstances, it was a good substitute. 

So this was what led me to write "Red Roads."

My poem, "Leaving home for the last time"

This week I was pleased to have a poem of mine, "Leaving home for the last time," published in the online journal Juniper Poetry.  You can read the poem HERE.

It was based on my final visit, in June 2017, to our farm in PEI before it was sold. I actually wrote about that visit in a previous blog post as well. But poetry always takes things in a slightly different direction -- leaving out some bits and homing in on others.

I had submitted this poem to seven other places before Juniper took it. It is always gratifying when a piece finds just the right home.

 

Five Minute Friday: UNKNOWN

For the first time in a while, I'm linking up with the Five Minute Friday community, writing for five minutes on a given prompt.

This week's word is UNKNOWN.

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There's a thing going around Twitter right now that says,

There's only ONE MONTH left in the decade. 

What have you accomplished?

When I first read this question I thought, OK, what goals did I set for myself and meet? What projects did I embark on and finish? What aspirations did I strive toward and reach? And I realized I didn't have many of those. 

There were a few small things, like writing poems and having a few of them published. That was gratifying.

But the things that stand out in my mind from the past ten years aren't achievements; rather, they're life-altering passages in my and my family's life:

• My mom's illness, cancer diagnosis, and death in 2014.
• The sale of our family farm.
• The loss (and partial restoration) of a significant relationship.
• The death of my uncle this summer.
• My dad's hospitalization this summer and subsequent move to a nursing home last month.

A decade ago these were all unknowns. I could never have predicted even one of those things -- and I wouldn't have wanted to. Now they're in the past, but they aren't completely over and done with. They've had a shaping effect. They've reminded me of what is really important in life: love and relationships. They've reminded me to help when I can and to accept help when it's offered. They've reminded me that in the valley of the shadow -- the valley of the unknown -- God is with us.

I'm not going to list my decade's worth of accomplishments on Twitter. Instead, I'm going to enjoy the people in my life and do the work I'm called to do, recognizing that the coming decade will have many unknowns of its own to be faced and walked through.

Thanksgiving: gratitude in all life's seasons

It has been a long time since I've written on this blog. There have been many reasons for that. Thanksgiving weekend seems like a good time to get back to it: to provide a few updates of what's been going on and, in the process, give thanks.

Family life has been very, very busy with lots of emotions and details to process. On August 13, five days before our family's trip to PEI, my dad had a fall at home and was taken to the hospital by ambulance. He was admitted and underwent various tests that showed poor heart and kidney functioning. Dad was in hospital the entire time we were in PEI and for several weeks after that. This sudden crisis meant that our PEI vacation had a very different tone to it: I spent several hours in the hospital most days, keeping Dad company, talking to staff, etc. We were glad to be there to support him and help my brother out as well. After consultations with the hospital staff we all concluded it probably was not feasible for my dad to live at home any more, so we had a family meeting at the hospital and submitted an application for a nursing home placement.

In early October, seven weeks after Dad's admission to hospital, he moved to a nursing home in Charlottetown. I haven't been down to see him yet, so I don't know exactly how the transition has gone; but I'm very thankful that this move happened, that he has a place where he can be well cared for. Dad is stoic about all this, as he is about most things. I remember when Mom died and he moved to the apartment, he said, "I'd rather be at the farm, but since I can't be, I'm glad I'm here." There is a lot to be said for that kind of attitude at his time of life. Aging brings so many losses: as a friend said to me the other day, when we're young, change often means an opening up of life and options, whereas when we're older, change often signals a closing down and narrowing. It's not easy. But my dad is a wonderful person and I think he still has a lot to offer the world with his kind, quiet spirit.

Once we returned from PEI at the end of August, it was time for school. Jonathan settled back into high school life like a duck slips into water; he was eager to get on the bus and see his EA, Dylan (who calls Jonathan his "partner in crime"), and to connect with old and new friends. I'm grateful that he likes school so much and is so happy there.

Allison resumed university classes again in September as well. All along she'd been taking exclusively online courses; she'd completed 10 credits after two years of part-time study. But this fall, besides an online course in Clinical Psychology, she's also taking an on-campus course. She decided she wanted to take Linguistics, and that's only offered on campus. So she now goes to campus two days a week for class and tutorial, and is really enjoying the material she's learning. I'm grateful that she chose this new venture all on her own and has been successful with it so far.

On September 9 I had my long-awaited eye surgery (I wrote here about the preparation for that) to correct my double vision, which I've struggled with for a number of years. The surgery was done under general anesthetic and took about two hours. The surgeon detached the eye muscles on the inside corners of both eyes, adjusted their position, and sewed them back up again. I get a little squeamish when I stop and think about that -- but it was actually very straightforward and went well. My eyes were red, runny, and sore for several days, but every day got better. I've had two follow-up appointments and everything is as it should be. The double vision is not (yet) 100% resolved -- it can take a couple of months for the eyes to settle -- but I can now see perfectly with my glasses on, without the stick-on prism I was wearing for six months in preparation for the surgery. I'm thankful. Even if my eyes never reach perfect alignment, the improvement has been amazing.

So it has been a full, stressful few months, but there have been many things to be grateful for along the way. I look out my window at this moment and see multi-coloured trees against a gray sky. A yellow leaf floats to the ground. There is beauty everywhere, in the everyday and in all the seasons of life. 

Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
    for his compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

~ Lamentations 3:22-23 ~

Happy Thanksgiving. 

Five Minute Friday: RETURN - my last trip to the farm

Almost a year ago today, I returned to our family farm for the last time.

We would be putting it up for sale a few weeks afterward, and I was only in PEI for a week -- so this was my final time to go back and walk through the empty house. My aunt (Mom's sister) came with me; she had not grown up in the house but had been in it thousands of times, and it was in a way another home to her, too. She wanted to dig up a few perennials to have something lasting from the old place.

The spare house key was still hanging inside the back door of what we called the "tractor building" -- the same place it had hung for at least 40 years. I unlocked the door to the house and we wandered through. It was cool and felt both damp and dusty. Some rooms were now unrecognizable, the previous residents having made some renovations -- but others looked almost exactly as they had been when our family lived there. 

I confess that I felt less sadness than I had expected to. Perhaps it was because when the people who made that house home were no longer there, I sensed that the walls and floors and roof were just containers for our lives. I realize not everyone feels that way: for some, the piece of earth and the buildings themselves retain significance of their own beyond that of the people who abided on and in them. But for me, it was not home anymore, and I was almost relieved to go outside again and lock the door behind me.

The yard looked much more like I remembered it than the house did -- except that Dad would never have let it get so overgrown with grass and dandelions.

There used to be a little blue picnic table under that tree; when we would visit in the summertime, Jonathan would sit there and do a jigsaw puzzle or have a snack. There had also been a hammock, where Allison might be found reading. Both were now gone.
  
I wonder now, how many Sunday afternoons did we spend sitting under that chestnut tree, commenting on  the (few) cars passing on the road, perhaps waiting for company to arrive.

Many people said that our house, with its white shingles and (formerly) green trim, reminded them of the house in Anne of Green Gables. 

This last picture contains so much: the bare earth near the house where cars would turn around; the old hay wagon in the long grass, its side racks removed; the little stretch of wooden fencing; the blue strip of Northumberland Strait to the south. It was the most beautiful view. At nighttime we could see lights twinkling across the strait in Nova Scotia. 

I'm glad I have these few pictures of the last time I returned home. When I drove away that day, I carried a million memories with me, too -- both sweet and sad. 

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This is a Five Minute Friday post - the prompt was RETURN.

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photos by Jeannie Prinsen - June 3, 2017

Five Minute Friday: TIRED

Today I'm linking up with Five Minute Friday, where we write for five minutes on a given prompt. This week's word is TIRED.

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The picture below shows a plaque that I made when I was a teenager, and that I still have.

At the time, my dad was sawing wood, and this thin slice of a log ended up on the woodpile. I took it inside, dried it, and then simply used a pencil to draw a picture of a pathway and mountain and write these (now faded) words:

"They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;

they shall mount up with wings as eagles.

They shall run and not be weary,

and they shall walk and not faint."

Isaiah 40:31 (King James Version)

This was my favourite Bible verse in those days, and I still consider it one of the most encouraging passages in the Bible.

Two of the verses before it say,

"Do you not know? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God,

the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary

and increases the power of the weak."

Isaiah 40:28-29 (New International Version)

 
Tired ... weary ... weak. These are familiar words. I often get tired of the demands of parenting. I get weary of repetitive words and activities. I feel weak when I stop and think about the overwhelming prospect of a lifetime of caregiving.

But in this Bible passage, God seems to be speaking directly to me -- saying, "Yes, I know you get tired and weary and weak ... but I do not. I understand what you are going through. I never sleep. I made this world, and I will help you. I will strengthen you and give you what you need to keep going."

When I made the plaque 40-some years ago, I didn't know what challenges the coming years would bring -- and maybe it's just as well. But I think I had a sense even then that reliance on God to renew my strength was going to be an important theme in my life. Today, I draw encouragement from the One who never grows tired or weary.

"On whom his favour rests" - a Christmas poem

I wrote this poem several years ago and revised it recently. Christmas always brings back childhood memories for me; this is just one of many. I hope you enjoy it.

Five Minute Friday: FAMILIAR

Today I'm linking up at Five Minute Friday, writing for five minutes on a given prompt.

This week's word: FAMILIAR.

Before starting to write, I did a quick Google search on the etymology of the word familiar. As we might expect, it comes from the same root as the word family. Familiar can also  refer to a spirit that someone might summon if they want to contact the dead.

But I like the Old English sense of the word: "on a family footing."

It makes me think of our family's farm in PEI. The property is sold now, so I won't be going back to that particular house anymore. But during the many summertime visits Richard and I and the kids made to visit Mom and Dad, it was always the familiar things that truly made it "home."

Almost immediately after arriving, we'd go to the pantry to run a glass of cold water from the tap. Our own city water could never compare to the well water on the farm.

The first thing Jonathan would do was go out to the porch to find the buckets of old Legos, drag them down to the parlour in front of the TV, dump them on the floor, and spend the next few hours filling and dumping.

(Even the words I've used -- pantry, porch, parlour -- seem like "home" words. Others would probably call those rooms the kitchen, the mudroom, and the living room or family room. You can call them that if you want, but those weren't our familiar terms.)

Allison would go to the cabinet in the kitchen and look for some old copies of Reader's Digest, or upstairs to the bookshelf in the hallway to find the Little House books or the old school readers. 

Finding the familiar things in their old familiar places was comforting. 

Before the farm was sold we took a few small pieces back home with us: a plate with a house and tree painted on it in blue; a cow figurine with little blocks that you can remove to change the date; a water jug; and a few other things. 

Using these familiar items and recalling exactly where they were in the farmhouse gives a sense of continuity between past and present, there and here, one home and another. I suppose it really does put me on a family footing.

photo Jeannie Prinsen Nov. 2017

Five Minute Friday: INVITE

Today I'm linking up with the Five Minute Friday community, writing for five minutes on a given prompt.

Today's word is INVITE.

Last weekend was Thanksgiving, and my brother and sister-in-law and niece came from out of town. There were six of us around the supper table on Saturday night (because Richard had to work till 7 p.m., he couldn't join us till later), so we cleared off our dual-purpose work-and-dining table for the meal. (By the way, it wasn't turkey: it was lasagna, garlic bread, salad, and pumpkin pie.)

As I was getting the table ready ahead of time, it occurred to me that we hadn't actually used it as a dining table in months.

Richard and I used to invite people over all the time. Now, we rarely do, unless it's having family over on birthdays for takeout pizza or a barbecue on the deck. 

Right now, mealtimes are hard, even just for the four of us. Jonathan is often cranky at suppertime, first refusing to come to the table, and then pushing away and screaming "DONE!" halfway through, even if we're eating something he likes (which we almost always are). It can be stressful and we don't really want to subject guests to that -- so we don't invite.

When I stop and think about this, I feel a bit sad. Sharing fellowship around a table is important, and it doesn't happen at our house as often anymore. I miss it. 

But maybe this is just a season we are in, and it will get better with time. I've learned from experience that the best approach is to have realistic expectations -- whether about hosting, or anything else in life.


 

Five Minute Friday: VISIT

Linking up today with Kate Motaung at Five Minute Friday. 

This week's word: VISIT.

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I've only been managing one blog post a week lately: my Five Minute Friday posts. It's been a busy month, and I've found it hard to settle to do much writing. But when I saw this week's prompt, visit, I knew I had to make time for this one.

This Sunday Allison and I are leaving for PEI to visit my dad (and my brother and other relatives too, of course). We are going to take the train and have booked a sleeper cabin for overnight; we've never done that before, so we're looking forward to the adventure. 

For the six nights we're in PEI we'll be staying in a motel just a couple of blocks from my dad and brother's apartment. That will allow us to go back and forth easily and not require a car for most of our visit. 

I just realized this will be the first time since I moved away from PEI over 30 years ago that I have gone back and not stayed at our family home or with relatives.

There have been so many changes in our family these last three years since my mom died. My dad now lives in an apartment, having moved for the very first time in his life at the age of 80. Our family farm will likely pass into the hands of new owners this summer; that transaction will truly be the closing of a door. 

All of us -- Dad especially -- have had to face the challenge of finding a new normal. What we all called "home" is just not the same anymore. But we can still visit, share memories, and savour the time we have with the people we love.

Our family home in PEI 
(photo Alycia Adams-MacEachern, Oct. 2014)