(Silent) Poetry Reading

To the Surgeon Kevin Lin
by W. S. Merwin

Besides these words that are made of
breath and memory with features
of both and are only mine as
                I address them to you

what do I owe to that steady
fire I watched burning behind your
glasses through the dire spelling-out
                when we met that first day

and to the passion of the boy
from Taiwan and the sharp knowledge
it burned a way to until it
                stood before the open

red cavern and between pulses
was sure how to do what came next
had it not been for that would I
                have been here this morning

at home after a night's rain as
the first sunlight touches the drops
at the tips of the leaves I owe
                you the sight of morning

from Present Company (Copper Canyon Press, 2007)

I chose this poem for Dr. Michael Pearl, the wonderful gynecologic oncologist who continues to travel the road with me, his patient patient.

Corresponding

I don't know how many times I've said to myself, "I wish I/I ought to/I want to write more letters." I just don't. I email, talk on the phone, text (I have several ongoing text conversations that are priceless), use Facebook, or play Words With Friends (you'd be surprised how connected you can feel when you're trading words with someone you don't see very often).

I have a lot of excuses for not writing letters, none of them very good: My handwriting has gotten sloppy, I'm not comfortable holding a pen for very long, I'm busy, I don't have anything important to say... Hogwash. I think I spend more time justifying not writing letters than it would take to actually write one.

Writing letters was always a pleasure. I used to correspond with friends and family. I love that word. Correspondence. When did I begin to neglect it? I'd like to get into the habit of writing a letter or a note, the same way I email or call or post on a wall.

So I decided to participate in the Month of Letters Challenge, which I think I read about on Facebook. It can't be that hard, and it promises be interesting! February is the perfect month for a daily shake-up, too. It's such a long month, even though it has fewer days. I feel like challenging myself out of the winter doldrums, and a little letter-writing might to do the trick.

I even unearthed my trusty Parker 45 "Flighter" for the occasion, figuring that I'll be more inclined to write if I have a nice pen. It was a gift from my parents some time in the late 1960's, and was most certainly purchased at the House Stationery Store, since both of my parents worked on Capitol Hill then. It's a simple, inexpensive pen, but I've always loved it. They aren't made any more, but I still found ink cartridges at my local office supply store. I don't know what happened to the little converter that lets me fill it from a bottle of ink; it will appear one of these days.

After the yarn stopped flying at the end of my Family Project, I took a short knitting break. I've been knitting, but slowly. I always cast on a new project at the New Year, and this time it was a Ptarmigan Cowl. I had the perfect skein of cashmere for Spirit Trail, too.

I'm working on a scarf for a friend, and another Brooklyn Tweed pattern, Winnowing by Bristol Ivy. It's going to take me a while, but every time I pick it up, I'm mesmerized by it. I'm two repeats further into it than this (not very attractive) picture:

It's a rainy Wednesday — a good time to dash off a note, wouldn't you say? Happy February! I'll be posting a poem tomorrow for the annual Silent Poetry Reading, a blog tradition that I've participated in since 2006 (wow).  Do you have a favorite poem to share?

Love came down at Christmas

My sweet mother had a difficult relationship with Christmas. She loved the idea of it, and she loved all our family's traditions — she created many of them, after all. But Christmas also tended to disappoint her sometimes, especially when it wasn't picture-perfect. In a family of nine, things were rarely picture-perfect; we didn't notice, but she did.

When we were growing up our parents created a magical time for us every year, and Gig's creativity and ingenuity were woven through the season — themed Christmas trees, pfeffernüsse cookies, actually-delicious fruit cake, beautiful arrangements of greens and decorations that filled the house, a Christmas morning that was staged as carefully as a Broadway theater set — and often, there were gifts she made herself.

My mother loved to sew. She sewed for most of her life; her mother was a seamstress as well. She made most of my sisters' and my clothes when we were growing up — in the early 1960's she made my sister Sarah and me two beautiful Easter outfits that included reversible linen coats — and she kept at it long after I was grown. When the grandchildren began arriving, starting in 1970, she kept sewing, and she concentrated on Christmas.

Each year seemed to have a theme — I wish I could remember them all. The nightgowns and footie pajamas, stick horses, teddy bears, pillows in the shape of letters for each child, shiny stuffed fish. There might have been dinosaurs, and there must have been others that I just can't remember.

In March, when I came home from Gig's memorial service and that short but amazing visit with my entire family, something began to take shape in my knitter/auntie/crazy-woman brain. What if I were to knit something — some little something — for those nieces and nephews, and their children, the way Gig had sewed for them? Just because I love them. I would be casual about it, and I would knit throughout the year. Things I might want to knit anyway, with yarn I probably already had. My Family Project began.

So I knit things all year long. When I finished, there were seven scarves, five pairs of mitts, and fifteen hats. For my family, and their families and beloveds — for Melody, Sylvester, A'Court, Cynthia, Susan, Ava, Lindsey, Chris, Oliver, Emily, Kylie, Jacob, Amy, Sophie, Sam, Dylan, Will, Rachel, Rebecca, Ben, Angela, another Dylan, Varan, Valerie, Kaiden, Robin, and Matt.

The photo is a link to the Family Project  Flickr page.

On this Christmas morning I am imagining my family, all opening their little packages, smiling as they remember how much Gig loved us, and I hope they know how much I love them. And wherever you are, whoever you're with — and picture-perfect Christmas or not — I hope this day is filled with love that wraps you up in a warm hug.

"Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Star and angels gave the sign."

Christina Rossetti

Pink

This year, my Christmas Cactus bloomed at the end of October. This Pink knitting happened at about the same time. Here are two additions to my Family Project, in Good Karma Farm Yarn merino and alpaca. It's a pleasure to knit, and the color is just girly enough!