Since I am a big believer in the power of reflection to anchor thinking and learning, I thought I would talk today about some of the things I have learned, been reminded of, or discovered during the last month. I wrote a similar post last year, so some things may be reminders, but I tried to focus on new learning this year.
 
During the March 2016 SOL I learned…
…of the power of a writing community (but I already knew that).
…that I stretch myself as a writer when I try different organizational structures.
…that sometimes it’s hard for me to read someone’s writing because of the feelings
​             that surface or the memories it reveals, but it is important to do so.
…that commenting is an art.
                                                       …that titles and teasers are important – they serve as an invitation to the reader.
                                                       …that by striving to read the post of at least one new slicer a day, the community
                                                                  I created for myself felt wider and stronger.
                                                       …that I can find the time to write every day.
                                                       ...that every day in life there is at least one moment that provides a laugh, a lesson, or                                                                      a wonder if we are open to it.   Remember:
                                                              Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop to look around once in a while, you
                                                              could miss it.      -Ferris Bueller
 
And because I am a big fan of bookend books (the beginning mirrors the ending in some way), I will close with some thoughts from my post on March 1 with a nod once again to Rob Gonsalves’ Imagine books:
 
Imagine…growing in confidence as a writer.
Imagine…finding stories in your everyday routines.
Imagine…being part of a writing community that offers daily support and
                           encouragement.
Imagine…The March SOL Story Challenge.
 
 
Thank you to Stacey, Tara, Dana, Betsy, Anna, Beth, Kathleen, and Deb for all your hard work organizing and keeping everyone on track.
Thank you to everyone who responded so thoughtfully and encouragingly to my writing.
 
See you on Tuesdays!

The other day I was scrounging through a kitchen cabinet in search of a water bottle when I happened to find one labeled “Pikes Peak By Bike.” Suddenly it was the summer of 2010, and we were on a family vacation in the Denver/ Colorado Springs area to see the Phillies play the Rockies. When Allan announced that he thought a nice activity while we were out there would be to bike down Pikes Peak, my first reaction was Are you crazy? But I was outnumbered.
 
Since I’ve been trying out some different organizational structures in my slices, I thought it might be fun to describe this event through emotions. First I wrote down all the different emotions I remember experiencing that day, then I tied one part of the experience to each emotion. Here’s what I came up with:
 
               Watching the trucks being loaded with the bikes and equipment and piling into the van for the ride
               up the mountain was exciting.
 
              Observing the scenery change from trees to rock and feeling my ears pop as we climbed higher and
              higher was anxiety-inducing.
 
              Noticing that there were no guard rails on the narrow trails and having to pull on heavier clothes as
              we reached new heights was surprising.
 
              Getting to the top, not being able to catch your breath, and needing to use the emergency inhaler
              (Allan, not me) made me nervous.
 
              Deciding that Allan and I would ride down in the van until reaching the tree line was a little embarrassing
              (but wise).
 
              Getting on the bike and starting down, all the while hugging the brakes, was scary.
 
              Receiving a calm reminder from the guide that I could trust him to get me down the mountain
              unscathed was reassuring.
 
              Feeling the wind against my skin as we zipped along was exhilarating.
 
             Stopping to take in the spectacular views was breathtaking.
 
             Finally reaching the bottom and sharing a cold beer was rewarding.
 
             Creating family memories…priceless.

(I think this would be fun to try with kids. They could even take it a step further and rewrite some of the lines by trying to show the emotion instead of telling it – a fun way to practice description).

I have recently read quite a few slices about the importance of being kind and treating people with respect and love. Although I hadn’t planned on writing about an encounter I had with a bicyclist on the trail a couple of weeks ago, I think it demonstrates how hurtful words can be.
 
Saturdays on the trail are always crowded, especially when the day is sunny and we can feel the first warm breezes of spring. As I was walking with Cyrus I began to feel a little tired, so I decided to turn around. We were stopped since Cyrus had found a delicious smell to investigate. I checked for “oncoming traffic,” looked down at Cyrus one last time to encourage him to continue, and began to turn. I looked up to check for traffic a second time when a bicyclist started yelling for me to watch out. He was barreling along at a speed far too fast for the trail, all the time shouting at me. It seemed he had come out of nowhere! I saw him in time and was not about to enter his path, but as he flew by he took the opportunity to hurl some hurtful words my way…You b_ _ _ _!  It wasn’t just the word, but the intensity of anger with which he said it that surprised me the most. It stuck with me for a very long time.
 
I think the only way to forget this incident is to forgive. Of course, that is easier said than done, but Amy Ludwig VanDerwater’s post on The Poem Farm about poems of advice on Friday provided me with just the right vehicle.
 
Dear Mr. Bicyclist,
 
Be careful as you ride.
 
Families and young children may be by your side.
 
Heed the limit on your speed.
 
Be mindful of your words and deeds.
 
Acknowledge your neighbors in a friendly way.
 
Others want to enjoy the day.
 
I know he will never see this, but it made me feel better to put it in writing.
 

When I retired a few years ago, after spending several weeks gradually clearing my office, after I gifted many professional books to colleagues, after I offered several bins of picture books to teachers for classroom libraries, after I placed materials that were looking for a new home in the faculty room, and after I made my final good-bye walk…I left with one cardboard carton of mementos. That box still sits in the corner of my office, and in it is a blue binder of poems I used throughout the years, mostly for students who needed help with fluency. I often started sessions with a poem that we read in different ways throughout the week, so it is not surprising that many of them stuck in my head.
 
I referenced one of those poems in yesterday’s slice, and today my waking thoughts were of another poem, Jack Prelutsky’s “Last Night I Dreamed of Chickens.” Except it was rabbits, not chickens, that had hopped into my dreams. You see, on CBS’ Sunday Morning yesterday, there was a segment about rabbits that totally fascinated me. I had no idea that there were over forty different types of rabbits and hundreds of breeders across the country. Not only that, rabbits are shown in competitions that are much like dog shows. Don’t get me wrong, having grown up in the shadow of the annual PA Farm Show, I am well aware that animals like pigs, cows, horses, and turkeys are often entered into competition, but I just never thought about rabbits having their own competitions or even that there are so many kinds.
 
In my dreams last night I was walking a rabbit on the trail instead of my dog, Cyrus. And what’s more, all of the animals walking on the trail were rabbits. Where were the dogs, I wonder? Hmmm…maybe there’s a picture book in there somewhere.

How I Know
 
Spring is coming!
Spring is coming!
Ask me how I know.
I met some pussy willows,
And they all told me so!
 
                                                                 -Anonymous
 
When I was working in the schools I loved to hang poems on the wall outside my office. I always smiled when I could hear kids standing in line quietly whispering the words. How I Know was a favorite for March and I thought of it yesterday. I spent some time in the garden checking for new growth on the perennials, clearing some debris, and wishing the rabbits would leave the irises alone. I noticed the beautiful blossoms on the magnolia tree down the street and vowed again that one day I would get to Washington to see the cherry blossoms. Spring was definitely in the air, so I planted some pansies and set out a couple of planters of sweet alyssum and johnny jump-ups. The air was a little chilly, but I could smell spring.
 
Here’s a little poem I wrote for this Easter Day with a nod to How I Know.
 
Spring
 
Daffodils and pansies
Crocuses and more.
Soon there will be tulips
And hyacinths galore!
 
Pussy willows tell me
That soon it will be spring
Purple, yellow, pink, and green
Colors soon to sing!
​

Excuse me, you look familiar.
 
Yes, you look familiar, too.
 
Did you……..?
 
This was the start of a conversation I had the other day with a woman at physical therapy. As we peddled side by side on the stationary bikes, we discovered that I had helped her son with reading many years ago when he was in second grade (he is now a college junior).
 
I seem to have many conversations that start like this, especially now that I am retired. But it is not surprising. After all, I have lived in the community for over thirty-five years (same street, same house) where my two children attended the local schools. I also worked in a large public school system in a neighboring community for about twenty-five years. Sometimes, like the conversation I had at physical therapy, it is a parent whose child I taught. But it could also be someone whose kids were friends of my kids, or a parent with whom I shared volunteer duties in scouts or choir, or a fellow teacher I met in a class or workshop.
 
I love when these brief encounters spring up in the course of my day. They always remind me of how far-reaching our connections with people can extend, and I am almost always left with a pleasant memory to carry with me for the rest of the day. These encounters are a simple reminder of how many lives I have touched and have touched mine, however briefly.
 
It was so nice to see you again.
 
Please give my best to………
​

​There is a house I pass while walking Cyrus on the trail that I always wonder about – I wonder who lives there, what type of family they are, what they think of having the trail almost in their backyard, how long they have been there. As I walked by the other day, I noticed something I never noticed before – a tree-branch swing in the front yard. I considered all the things I have noticed about this house and realized I know quite a bit already about the people who live there.
 
I know they like to cook outside - a new larger barbeque replaced the round Weber grill (now in the back by the shed).
 
I know they like to spend time outside. There are several benches placed strategically throughout the yard.
 
I know that they recently acquired a dog. I watched a fence being built so that the dog could be let out and be safe but still have room to run. While the fence was going up I wondered what it might be for, then one day I saw the dog.
 
They might have a child or children, or maybe the children are grown and gone. The swing is the only child-related object I’ve noticed, so I’m thinking the children are no longer there.
 
I have a character floating around in my head with a story. Someday I’d like to write her story, but I’m thinking I don’t know enough about her…yet. I need to put her in a place in a house (maybe this house) and follow her around and make note of what she likes, fears, questions. Just like I wonder about that house, I need to wonder about her. Maybe that’s why even though I know the plot and the setting and the character for my story, it hasn’t yet been written…completely. I know now I need to spend time with all of that, then I will write.

I noticed them first in the Terrace Café – a family enjoying a beautiful day at Longwood Gardens. They were a mother, a boy of about five or six, and a little girl who couldn’t have been much more than two. The little girl was dressed in a full length blue Disney Princess gown (with matching crown, of course.) I couldn’t help but smile when I noticed the made-for-puddle-jumping boots peeking out.
 
When they came to the Children’s Garden I recognized them immediately. The little girl approached tentatively, but when I commented on her gown she seemed to accept me as a friendly-enough person. I got her interested in doing an orchid puzzle and let her hug the sloth puppet (sloths love to hug). Soon the boy was off to find different adventures with mom wandering after him. My princess left to follow as soon as she noticed mom moving away.
 
In a few minutes mom returned with a questioning look on her face.
 
“Where is she?”
 
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought she was following you.”
 
Great! My first day volunteering and I lose a kid!
 
Within a minute I heard mom call, “I’ve got her!”
 
Relief flooded over me, but I wasn’t really too worried. Even though it was a little busy, how can you lose a child in a princess outfit?
 
It really was a great day!

​Clare’s post yesterday got me thinking about change, so today I decided to change things up a bit. While I was out doing errands I didn’t follow my normal routes, but found other ways to get to where I was going, always on the lookout for new things to notice. If I hadn’t done that, I might never have noticed that a restaurant near us that has been abandoned for years was finally torn down, or that there are live llamas in the front yard at Discovery Day Care. (Really!)
 
My greatest discoveries came when I was walking Cyrus. Instead of starting the trail where we normally do, I drove to the endpoint and started backwards. So while technically I always walk that portion of the trail, today it was first, not last. I kept my ears and eyes open and this is what I noticed:
 
a child’s delightful laughter coming from the playground
the quiet rush of the meandering stream
the stump of a tree in the shape of an eagle
the distant rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker
a lone clump of yellow daffodils on a hill
buds emerging from climbing vines
a swing on the tree in front of the house I often wonder about
a bench for sitting or thinking or reading or writing
 
In the classroom, some kids have trouble with change, but small changes, even temporary small changes, may be just the thing to give them a new perspective or energy boost – a new sharing partner, a new spot for reading, a new responsibility. And then I think we have to talk with kids about how that change affected them. For me, I think the changes I made in the routes I took heightened my senses and made me more aware of my environment.
 
And without that small change I made in the direction I walk with Cyrus, I might never have noticed the bench, where we paused for a selfie.

Allan knows that I love wind chimes so he bought me a beautiful chime for my birthday last fall. The chime is tuned in such a way that it plays a melody from a Verdi opera and is meant to remind the listener of Italy. Perfect! Writing about the chime was on my list of ideas for slices, so yesterday I decided a poem about it would be appropriate for World Poetry Day. But nothing was working. I listened. I brainstormed. I jotted. But there really was nothing I could grab onto. Then I remembered that the chime came with some material explaining how it was made, how to take care of it, and the aria it was meant to imitate. So I decided to try a found poem. In the picture of my notebook you can see the words I jotted down and how I fashioned them into this poem:
 
 
The Chimes of Tuscany: A Found Poem
 
I hear the poignant notes of Giuseppe Verdi
            outside my window.
 
And I am there –
            lush vineyards
                 ancient olive groves
                             stone farmhouses
                                      medieval castles
 
Tuscany –
            stretching from the mountains to the sea
            where the rhythms of nature inspire fine wine.
 
Music and wine just seem to go together.
 
 
                                                     Thank you Woodstock Chimes for the inspiration!
​