Unraveled Wednesday: 4/30/25

I'm here to show you what the Dracula Hitchhiker looks like with the finish of Fleiderbusch (Lilac Bush) and the addition of Lavendel (It's Lavender, but I bet you figured that out without my helpful translation from German.) I decided to take the picture in the grass instead of on the gray slate patio like I usually do and it looks quite different.

I think it looks better in the grass, so that may be where I take photos from now on. There's no Unraveled Wednesday linkup since Kat is on vacation, but every Wednesday is Unraveled to me.

I finished two books this week. The first is one that Kat recommended. Cold Granite is a gritty, atmospheric crime novel that delivers a strong debut for DS Logan McRae. Set in rainy, snowy, perpetually gray Aberdeen, the novel leans heavily into its bleak surroundings—and it works. Stuart MacBride crafts a dark, often grim procedural that doesn't shy away from the brutal realities of child murder, political pressure, and media manipulation.

Logan McRae is a compelling lead, recently returned to duty after a near-fatal stabbing. He's smart and determined but also constantly outpaced by bureaucracy, bad luck, and his more colorful colleagues. MacBride populates the story with a solid supporting cast, particularly the foul-mouthed DI Steel, who adds both humor and unpredictability to the mix.

The plot is dense, but that adds to the story. There are several cases intersecting, red herrings galore, and a lot of running around Aberdeen in the cold rain and awful weather. At times, it felt like the narrative was spinning its wheels, and the pacing sagged a bit under the weight of its complexity. A little tightening might have worked.

That said, MacBride’s writing shines in his vivid (and often gruesome) descriptions and in the snappy dialogue. His black humor is sharp, and the procedural elements feel authentic. This three and a half star novel wasn't perfect, but definitely promising. I’ll be picking up the next in the series.

I was relieved to finish the second book. Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. is classic Joyce Carol Oates in many ways: immersive, sprawling, unflinching in its look at grief, race, family dynamics, and injustice. Oates is clearly a master of her craft — her writing can be absolutely brilliant, dropping you into the minds and emotions of her characters with incredible precision. There are passages here that are breathtaking in their insight and emotional weight.

And yet . . . as a reading experience, for me this book often felt more like a test of endurance than a rewarding journey. At nearly 800 pages, it sprawls in ways that feel less intentional and more exhausting. While the premise is gripping — a family reeling after a violent encounter with the police — the narrative meanders endlessly, and many threads seem to simply wither away rather than build toward anything satisfying.

Oates clearly isn't interested in "clean" resolutions, and that's fine — life is messy, grief is ongoing. But for a novel of this size and ambition, the lack of any real catharsis or payoff by the end was frustrating. After hundreds of pages of character study and slow-burn tension, I wanted something that felt like emotional movement or growth. Instead, the characters seem just as lost, fractured, and haunted as when the novel began.

Ultimately, Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. showcases Oates’ undeniable brilliance as a writer, but as a novel, it’s a heavy, sometimes unrewarding experience. If you’re a diehard fan of her work or love character-driven sagas without neat endings, you might find more to love here. Otherwise, prepare for a long, often beautiful, but deeply unresolved read. Three and a half stars, but I can't round up.  

What are you making and reading this week?

Read With Us: Nesting

We announced our Spring Read With Us book a couple of weeks ago, and by now I hope you're all on your library wait lists and moving up in the queues. We'll be writing promotional posts designed to provide you with some reasons why we hope you'll want to read the book, and it's my turn today. Just as a reminder, we're going to be reading Nesting by Roisín O’Donnell.

We chose the book mainly because it was on the Women's Prize for Fiction Longlist. None of us had read it when we made the choice, but I was lucky enough to get a copy from my library within a couple of days. I raced through it and found it both gripping and emotionally powerful. I personally think that Nesting is an unforgettable choice.

The book follows Ciara Fay, a Dublin woman on the brink of reclaiming her freedom after enduring years of psychological and emotional abuse from her husband. As she plans her escape, Ciara must navigate fear, manipulation, and dig deep to find her own hard-won resilience. O'Donnell’s storytelling is unflinching yet deeply compassionate, capturing the silent battles so many endure behind closed doors.

For book groups like ours, Nesting offers a rare opportunity to open up meaningful conversations around topics often left unspoken:

• Emotional Abuse and Coercive Control: How does emotional abuse differ from physical abuse? What are the invisible scars it leaves behind?

• Resilience and Renewal: Ciara's journey is not just about survival—it’s about reclaiming agency, identity, and hope.

• Psychological Tension: O'Donnell masterfully builds an atmosphere of suspense, making Ciara’s internal world as compelling as the multitude of external obstacles she faces.

• The Power of Language and Silence: The novel’s careful attention to what is said—and what is left unsaid—invites readers to reflect on the dynamics of communication in toxic relationships.

Nesting is a beautifully written, emotionally charged novel that will stay with readers long after the last page. It’s a perfect catalyst for discussions about strength, fear, liberation, and healing—offering not only empathy, but insight and hope.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts through May. Discussion day for Nesting is scheduled for Tuesday, June 10, 2025 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always fun, educational, and entertaining Zoom discussion.

Nesting is an important and powerful book. I do hope you'll Read With Us and prepare for an intense, rewarding discussion.

 

Sometimes Monday . . .

 

. . . is a day to enjoy the fruits of your labors over the weekend. I made split pea soup (it turned out a little thick, but that's how I like it) and some bread that we had for dinner last night and there are plenty of leftovers for dinner tonight. 

 

 

I also did a couple of loads of laundry so there aren't too many household chores for me to feel guilty about not doing. Yes, I could vacuum, dust, clean out the refrigerator, and mop the kitchen floor, but I think I'll leave those chores for another time. John is away for much of the day and I've found that for my sanity I need to take advantage of the time when he's not here. He used to travel a lot and I got fairly used to figuring out how to do most things myself. Now that he's retired, he can often be found hanging around in the kitchen telling me how to dice ham, and he's also offered me advice on how to hang laundry on the clothesline, how to fold clothes, the best way to water my plants, and when the best time is to go to the grocery store. (Keep in mind, he hasn't been to the grocery store in at least five years.) I love him dearly but there is a limit on how much advice I need (or want). There are times when I can't seem to do anything right, so today I'm reading, knitting, and not cleaning out the refrigerator. I bet I'll do those correctly!

National Poetry Month: Adrienne Rich

Today we're concluding National Poetry Month with poems from Adrienne Rich. She was an influential American poet, essayist, and feminist whose work explored themes of identity, politics, power, and social justice. Over the course of her long career, Rich’s poetry evolved from formal, structured verse to more experimental and free forms, reflecting her growing commitment to activism and radical thought. She is known for blending the personal with the political, using poetry as a means to challenge oppression, particularly in relation to gender, sexuality, and race. Most of her work is new to me, but as soon as I read this poem, I knew it was the one I wanted to share.

This poem movingly depicts a relationship. Rich describes how she and her husband venture into the Nevada desert to protest against a nuclear test being carried out by the United States government while contemplating their marriage at the same time. Once, the poet’s marriage was a happy one, filled with music and cookies, with movies and "afternoons on the riverbank". This togetherness is now a thing of the past. Their relationship is now characterized by an emotional distance, a "silence" at the heart of things. The couple have come to the desert not only to protest against nuclear weapons, but also to confront this silence that’s eating away at their relationship.

Trying to Talk With a Man

by Adrienne Rich

Out in this desert we are testing bombs,

that’s why we came here.

Sometimes I feel an underground river
forcing its way between deformed cliffs
an acute angle of understanding
moving itself like a locus of the sun
into this condemned scenery.

What we’ve had to give up to get here –
whole LP collections, films we starred in
playing in the neighbourhoods, bakery windows
full of dry, chocolate-filled Jewish cookies,
the language of love-letters, of suicide notes,
afternoons on the riverbank
pretending to be children

Coming out to this desert
we meant to change the face of
driving among dull green succulents
walking at noon in the ghost town
surrounded by a silence

that sounds like the silence of the place
except that it came with us
and is familiar
and everything we were saying until now
was an effort to blot it out –
coming out here we are up against it

Out here I feel more helpless
with you than without you
You mention the danger
and list the equipment
we talk of people caring for each other
in emergencies – laceration, thirst –
but you look at me like an emergency

Your dry heat feels like power
your eyes are stars of a different magnitude
they reflect lights that spell out: EXIT
when you get up and pace the floor

talking of the danger
as if it were not ourselves
as if we were testing anything else.

====

Rich, Adrienne. "Trying to Talk With a Man." Diving into the Wreck. New York: Norton, 1973.  

You can read more about the poet here and here.

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today. Thank you for joining and reading our celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!)

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/23/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with the Dracula Hitchhiker. That's what Wollmeise called the collection of mini skeins so that's how I continue to think of them. I've finished with the first color, Petit Poison dark, fiddled around with several ways to start the second color, Fliederbusch (lilac bush), and finally hit on one that seemed to work okay. (It's just yo, k2tog, nothing complicated.)

Except . . . I don't really like these two colors next to each other. I have had to remind myself that this is not really a gradient series, just colorways that Wollmeise grouped together, and I do like the later colors better. I think I'll just keep knitting and see what I think when I start the third and subsequent colors. It's nice yarn to work with and I have to knit something. 

I started and gave up on four or five books last week before I finally settled on Night. Sleep. Death. The Stars. by Joyce Carol Oates. It's kind of a long-winded tale (800 pages!) about a family of five siblings whose father dies and how they and their mother react. I've never read anything by this author, but she does seem to use four or five words when one would suffice. So far, I'm sticking with it because the writing is good enough that I want to find out what happens.

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Better Late Than Never

I had to run to the grocery store for a few things on Saturday, and they had a display of Easter flowers right by the front door. I picked up a pot of three hyacinths to inhale their heady fragrance, decided I needed them, and carefully placed them in my cart. 

Later I came to the floral department and saw one of those mini orchids and it was in an adorable bunny rabbit planter. I felt like I had to decide whether I wanted the hyacinths, the orchid, or neither of them, but in a complete departure from my usual, I bought both. They make me happy every time I see them! 

Jess texted me last week to ask what time they should come over for Easter and could she bring anything. Easter has never been a big holiday for us and I honestly didn't feel like cooking a big meal, but for a few moments I did consider making Easter dinner for just Justin and Jess. Ryan was playing D&D and wasn't willing to drive for an hour for a meal he didn't really want. I ended up telling Jess that I didn't have anything planned but maybe we could get together next week so I could hear about her trip. (She just went to the Galapagos!) She said that was fine; she and Justin would go fishing. I didn't have to do something that I didn't really want to do and I needn't have worried that I was going to hurt someone's feelings.

I was working outside on Sunday when I noticed that a bunch of my grape hyacinths had spread (or the squirrels spread them) and were now blooming in the yard rather than the flower beds. My mother had a fairly strict rule that outside flowers were meant to be enjoyed outdoors and we were not allowed to cut them and bring them inside. (Why? I have no idea!) I often still stick by the "rule" and leave flowers outdoors where they bloom. But since these were in the yard, I picked them and brought them inside before John mowed them. I'll be 68 in a couple of months, so I guess it's finally time for me to do what I want to, even if what I want to do is relatively minor. 

These are all small things, and while I don't see myself throwing caution to the wind, heading to Atlantic City to gamble our retirement savings, and taking up with a suave and handsome Italian gigolo, it is interesting to see that I can break some "rules", do some things that make me happy, and nobody gets harmed when I do that. Who knows, I may even order some yarn that I've been lusting after, take a nap, or eat three of my homemade peanut butter bites just to make sure I've really learned this lesson. Better late than never!

 

Not for Mark

John and his brother Mark visit each other every few weeks. Sometimes John goes over to Mark's house in PA, and sometimes Mark comes here to NJ. They talk about deer and other assorted manly topics and spend a few hours together. I often offer Mark lunch when it gets to be that time, but he rarely takes me up on it. He does, however, like my candy dish. 

This is just a dish from my grandmother that I like and what better thing to keep in it than candy. It did have some Hershey kisses and two Reese's peanut butter eggs in it. Sometime after Mark left last Sunday, John asked me if I ate the last peanut butter eggs. I had not; in fact, I was kind of saving them for later. We figured out that Mark must have eaten them. While I don't begrudge Mark a few pieces of candy, I was a little sad that I no longer had any.

So I made some.  It's really just the taste of peanut butter and chocolate that I wanted, so I used this simple recipe. I had all five of the ingredients; it's relatively simple to make, and doesn't require any baking. Clean up was a little messy but it was just two bowls, a few spoons, and a measuring cup. 

I sliced them up into small portions and I'll be storing them in the refrigerator. I doubt Mark will go in there to eat my peanut butter and chocolate confections, but it makes enough that I might even offer him a few pieces the next time he's here.

 

 

 

It's been quite a week here, but now I can enjoy some homemade chocolate and peanut butter bars. I think they're even better than drinking!

A Gathering of Poetry for National Poetry Month: April 2025

Today our focus is on Aging. We're all aging, even the youngest of us, so I think it's a good idea to face it with poetry. I chose this poem because it captures my dear Mother-in-law's last days so clearly when she was in the hospital after a fall (and I also love the title). She was using a wheeled walker and when one of the welds broke she fell and broke her pelvis. I wish she had made progress to take five steps, but it was not to be.

 

Jellyfish Olympics

by Cristina M. R. Norcross

There are wires and cords
that stretch out, 
hang dangling
from the hospital bed,
the transparent filigree 
of a floating jellyfish.
One leads to the phone
to order food. 
One leads to the TV, so we can stare at
cooking shows with delicacies not available here.
One leads to compression wraps
for your vulnerable legs.
Another leads to the IV ports 
in your bruised, crepe-skinned arm.

In between your long spells of sleeping
and my knitting, 
we enjoy the pretend competition
of the contestants cooking.
We marvel at how quickly 
they move about the kitchen.
I marvel even more at your careful movements
and the miracle of progress after your fall.
We count the steps you take
as if you are skipping stones—
any number makes you a winner. 
You fight for everyday markers of strength,
your efforts a perfect ten.
This is the Olympics of rehabilitation.

Cotton gown diamond patterns 
become your fashion.
We look out the window as day becomes night.
Another day passes 
in the goldfish bowl of recovery,
a blue ribbon day of taking five steps 
just to turn around
and walk back to the bed.

====

Norcross, Cristina M.R. "Jellyfish Olympics". Poem-a-Day on November 8, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets. 

You can read more about the poet here.  

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!) 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/16/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with an FO. 

My Barn Owl socks are done and I'm happy with them. At first the colors reminded me of chickadees, but now I think they are more in a barn owl colorway. I tried to get them to match but I would have hard to get rid of a lot of yarn to do that, so they almost match which is good enough for me. I was so taken with Sarah's socks for Molly that I had to purchase my own skein of yarn, and I've heard that another knitter may also be making copycat socks in the future. I hope Sarah gets her commission check from Fibernymph Dye Works soon! I had forgotten that it can be calming to knit socks, so there may be another pair in the near future, but I haven't yet wound the yarn. 

 

Another relaxing thing is working on a Hitchhiker so I've also been doing that.

 

 

I took the photo mid-row because I got interrupted seven times (no exaggeration), so I figured that meant I should just take the picture. It's still just the deepest purple (Wollmeise calls it Petit Poison dark, which is slightly intriguing). I have a plan for when I change to the next color, so I hope I get there soon so I can see if it will work.

I finished two three-star books this week that I had hoped might be better than they turned out to be. Fredrik Backman has a gift for writing about the emotional intricacies of human relationships, and My Friends is no exception. His usual warmth, empathy, and humor are present to some degree, and there are several moments that tug at the heart in that signature Backman way. The themes of grief, connection, and redemption are handled with care, and he also wrote some interesting things about art.

That said, this one didn’t quite hit as hard as some of his previous works. The pacing felt uneven, and at times, the narrative leaned too heavily on introspection and monologue, making it feel slower than necessary. None of the characters felt fully developed or as compelling as those in A Man Called Ove. Overall, this book was too simplistic and saccharine for me. I honestly struggled to finish as it felt like something had happened to what I remembered as Backman's previous high-quality writing. Maybe something got lost in translation, but as a US reader this quote seemed strange, “It really is a remarkably bad idea, all this. Worse than socks in a toaster.” There are others that are just as odd.

This isn’t a bad book by any means—it has some touching and beautifully written parts—but it didn’t leave the lasting impact I’ve had from previous Backman novels. Fans will still find value here, but it might not convert new readers. Two and a half stars rounded up.

Thank you to Edelweiss and Atria for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on May 6, 2025. 

Rope by Tim Queeney offers an unexpected deep dive into a topic most of us take for granted. I'm not sure I would say that rope is "the backbone of civilization", but the author does explore how rope has literally and figuratively held the world together. From Ötzi's death from a flint arrowhead, to pyramid building in ancient Egypt, how rope was used in punishment, and how important rope was in landing Curiosity on Mars, the subject is more fascinating than it might seem at first glance. The book shines when it leans into quirky historical tidbits and surprising innovations.

That said, the tone can be a bit uneven—sometimes breezy and humorous, other times overly detailed or dry. It reads more like a collection of rope-related anecdotes than a cohesive narrative, which may work for some readers but felt slightly disjointed to me. This book is crying out for illustrations! I often wished for visuals and diagrams to complement the content, especially in the more technical sections. I found myself searching the internet often while I read so I could picture pyramid building, khipu, and ropewalks. Still, it’s a solid read if you enjoy niche histories or just enjoy learning how everyday things came to be. Not quite gripping from start to finish, but it was informative. Three and a half stars rounded down.

Thank you to NetGalley and St. Martin's Press for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on August 12, 2025.

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Read With Us: It's A New Book Announcement!

If you’ve ever felt the thrill of discovering a literary gem before the rest of the world catches on, our next Read With Us book is your next must-read—and we’re diving in together.

 

 

We'll be exploring the richly layered, emotionally resonant novel Nesting, a debut that’s already stirring up conversations across literary circles. Roisín O’Donnell, known for her award-winning short fiction, brings her signature lyrical touch to this compelling story of motherhood, identity, recognition, and transformation.

Without giving too much away—because trust me, you’ll want to experience every twist for yourself—Nesting centers on Ciara Fay, a woman navigating the complexities of pregnancy, relationships, and learning to trust what she is experiencing and stand up for her children and herself. O’Donnell’s prose is vivid and often emotionally wrenching, yet still hopeful. What does it mean to make a home, to protect it, and to let it go?

Nesting has been longlisted for The Women's Prize for Fiction. Chair of judges for the Women’s Prize Kit de Waal said the book was:

"a moving story, well told about what it’s like to try and leave an abusive relationship, the hurdles, the stigma, the doubt, the ease and temptation of return. Not maudlin or depressing, there’s lots of light here but ultimately this is about a system ripe for change where getting help is nearly as hard as escape itself."

The hardcover, Kindle, and audio versions of the book are all available from my library without much of a wait. Hopefully, we'll all have plenty of time to place a hold, get the book, and read it. The Kindle and paperback versions are priced reasonably from Amazon and the audio version is narrated beautifully by Louisa Harland. I'm sure your local bookseller could order a copy for you if you're lucky enough to have a local bookseller.

Kym, Carole, and I will be talking about the book, giving additional information, and doing promotional posts through April and May. Discussion day for Nesting is scheduled for Tuesday, June 10, 2025 at 7:00 pm Eastern time, so mark your calendars. We'll ask questions on our blogs that day and then host the always fun, educational, and entertaining Zoom discussion.

Nesting is an important and powerful book and I do hope you'll Read With Us!

Good, Better, Best

Since I'm busy catching up with ARCs and library loans this week, I finished three books and decided to review them all together today. They fell nicely in a line of three, four, and five stars for me, so I'll start with the three star (really 3.5) book. 

Raising Hare by Chloe Dalton has a fascinating premise, but the execution didn't fully deliver for me. The idea of forming a connection with a wild hare is compelling, yet the memoir gets bogged down by too much history and factual explanations about the differences between hares and rabbits. At times, it feels more like a lecture than a story, pulling focus away from the emotional core of the book.

While Dalton’s writing is undeniably poetic and immersive, I found myself wanting more insight into how this experience truly changed her. The personal reflection often takes a backseat to the informational passages, which makes the narrative feel unbalanced.

That said, the book still offers moments of beauty and deep observation, and readers who enjoy nature writing with a scholarly touch may appreciate it more. A solid 3.5 stars—engaging in parts, but I wished for a stronger focus on the author's emotional transformation at its heart. There is a Goodreads giveaway for this book in case you are interested. 

 

Andrew Porter’s The Imagined Life is a beautifully written and deeply introspective novel about the weight of the past and the cycles we fear we cannot escape. At its heart is a middle-aged professor, Steven Mills, grappling with the legacy of his father—a brilliant but troubled academic who disappeared from from his family after being denied tenure. As Steven embarks on a road trip to revisit his memories and the people who were involved with his father, he unpacks his father’s struggles with mental illness, homosexuality, and self-destruction, all while confronting his own anxieties about repeating some of those same patterns with his own family.

Porter’s prose is quiet yet powerful, weaving together themes of loss, identity, and the often invisible forces that shape who we become. The novel is not plot-driven but instead unfolds as a layered psychological portrait, one that lingers in the mind with its aching emotional depth. The quotes from Proust and Stevie Nicks' song lyrics add depth and atmosphere to the story.

At times, the narrative’s introspective nature may feel slow, but the reward is a story that resonates deeply, especially for readers drawn to literary fiction that examines the complexities of family and selfhood. Thoughtful, moving, and quietly haunting, The Imagined Life is a novel that will stay with you long after the final page.

Thank you to Knopf and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book. It will be published on April 15, 2025. 

 

John Boyne delivers yet another emotionally astute and quietly devastating novel in The Elements. Known for his ability to delve into the moral complexities of human behavior, the book is composed of four deeply introspective novellas, "Water," "Earth," "Fire," and "Air," with each providing haunting, confronting, and moving investigations into sexual abuse and its consequences from different viewpoints. Each of the novellas is from a different perspective - the enabler, accomplice, a perpetrator, and a victim. The lives of the characters intersect across stories in intriguing ways. By linking the novellas and characters, the author shows us how the cycle of abuse can cause people to shift from one role to another.

Boyne’s prose is as elegant and restrained as ever. He doesn’t overwrite emotions—he trusts the reader to feel what’s not being said, which is exactly what makes this novel so moving. The book is steeped in melancholy because of Boyne's unflinchingly honest writing, but there are also flickers of hope and grace that make the stories feel like redemption may be a possibility.

What I appreciated most is Boyne’s refusal to offer neat resolutions. Many of the relationships in The Elements, between parents and children, between teammates, and even between physicians and those who should trust them, are fractured in ways that feel painfully real. There’s an authenticity in the way Boyne portrays long-term consequences of personal failings and the difficulty along with the hardship of forgiveness.

If you’re already a Boyne fan, The Elements will feel like a natural continuation of his thematic explorations. If you’re new to his work, it’s a beautifully self-contained introduction to his sharp insight into flawed humanity. Highly recommended for readers who enjoy introspective fiction, literary family dramas, and stories about reconciliations that don’t come easy. It was hard to read because of the subject matter, but because it was written by John Boyne, it was even harder to put down.

Thank you to Henry Holt and Co. and NetGalley. This book will be published on September 9, 2025. I'm sorry to tell you about this amazing five-star book that won't be published for another four months, but for me it was one of those books that was so good that I want to tell everyone about it. 

What are you reading? I hope it's something good and I'd love to hear about it in the comments. 

National Poetry Month: Poems In Your Pocket

Today we're two weeks into National Poetry Month and we've got Poems In Our Pockets. This just means that we are focusing on short poems. Short, of course, is relative but if the poems are short enough, you can memorize them, recite them, print them out and leave copies in the produce section of the grocery store (or almost wherever strikes your fancy). You can read more about Poem In Your Pocket Day here.  

 

A Truth That Tells You

by Maggie Smith

I wish for you a small, portable truth you can take
anywhere—no foreign adaptors needed,
no translation required and nothing lost in it.

Once, looking at a map, my daughter said,
A river is a line the world drew for us. I wish for you
a truth that stays true across any line drawn

by the world or its people, a truth that tells you
wherever you arrive, you are welcome.

====

Smith, Maggie. "A Truth That Tells You". Maggie Smith wrote this specially for Poem in Your Pocket Day in 2019.

You can read more about the poet here.  

You can read more about Nelson Minar and his map of every river in the 48 contiguous states here. 

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!)  

 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter

Unraveled Wednesday: 4/9/25

I'm joining Kat and the Unravelers today with a little more progress on the socks.

I'm at that stage when you say (or at least I've told myself), "I'll just knit down this foot, knit the toe, and then I'll be done!" The process that I've told myself will just take a little while will, in fact, take me a little while longer. I've been knitting monogamously on the sock because I know that if I put it down to work on the Hitchhiker, I will likely never finish the socks. So I'll keep plugging along in hope that I can finish them by next week and get a good start on the Hitchhiker.

 

I've been busy catching up on ARCs and library books, so I finished three books this week. I do kind of go on in my reviews, so I'll review them on Friday. 

What are you making and reading this week?

 

Signs of Spring

I had to take a quick walk up to the post office and I was surprised at how many things I saw that show spring is really on the way. It's only 38 degrees and there is a cold rain as I'm writing this but I think you'll still be convinced that spring is arriving in central NJ.

The gazebo may not look especially springy, but they did take down the Christmas decorations on Friday so that's a sure sign. There are lots of Easter decorations; I couldn't miss some of them even if I wanted to.

And of course there are plenty of flowers and trees in blossom. 

 

But one of my favorite signs of spring is when my neighbor calls the guys who spread new mulch in his yard and they carefully mulch around the old bag of topsoil in his ivy bed . . .  for the third year in a row. 

 

Now I know spring is here!

Invasives, Pollinators, and the Oldest Independent Bookstore in PA

Last week I went to visit John's sister and her husband to help with some scheduling issues they had. My niece was traveling so my SiL was staying with her son and making sure he got to school, that there was someone at home when he got home from school, and then there was some nagging about homework to be done. My BiL also had to be driven to cardiac rehab that was an hour away, plus we hadn't seen them since his big open heart surgery.

It was great to see how well my BiL Bill is doing, gaining more energy and strength every week. He feels he'll be ready to return to Silver Sneakers at the YMCA in the next few weeks. It turns out that fourth graders don't seem to have nearly as much homework as I recall my own kids having, but I wasn't going to resort to searching my grandnephew's backpack. We did play quite a bit of Animal Crossing and being the "Grand Aunt" that I am, I gave him a million bells (Animal Crossing currency) to pay off his mortgage. 

But it wasn't all transportation and child tending. While we were in Williamsport for cardiac rehab, I got to browse the oldest independent bookstore in PA. Otto Bookstore was established in 1841 and is still going strong. They had a wonderful selection of books and it was so enjoyable to browse a real brick-and-mortar bookstore, something I haven't done in a long time. I was overcome by the book fumes and bought myself hardcover copies of The Comfort of Crows and The Backyard Bird Chronicles. I don't often have the opportunity to support an independent bookstore, but it was a win-win for me. 

 

We also attended a native plant and pollinator workshop. (The photos from that aren't the best because I was taking pictures of projected slides. Sorry; I hope you can read them.) I learned some new things, like Burning Bush, Norway maple, English Ivy, Pachysandra, Butterfly Bush, and Common Periwinkle are all invasive species. These plants are all quite common in my neighborhood! Our town cut down all the Bradford Pear trees that were lining Main Street and there was a big outcry, but now I understand why they got rid of them.

I also learned that there are many Native Bee species that are responsible for pollinating about one third of our crops. They tend to nest in the ground or in hollow pithy plant stems.

I might try making a bee house if I can gather enough hollow plant stems. I think this will be a good simple project as spring approaches, and it might even make me feel as good as supporting an independent bookstore!

It's National Poetry Month!

And we've got Hope! To celebrate National Poetry Month, several of us are sharing poetry with you on Thursdays in April. Today's topic is about something we can all use more of, wherever and whenever we can find it - Hope. 

 

A House Called Tomorrow

by Alberto Rios

You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen—
You are a hundred wild centuries

And fifteen, bringing with you
In every breath and in every step

Everyone who has come before you,
All the yous that you have been,

The mothers of your mother,
The fathers of your father.

If someone in your family tree was trouble,
A hundred were not:

The bad do not win—not finally,
No matter how loud they are.

We simply would not be here
If that were so.

You are made, fundamentally, from the good.
With this knowledge, you never march alone.

You are the breaking news of the century.
You are the good who has come forward

Through it all, even if so many days
Feel otherwise.  But think:

When you as a child learned to speak,
It’s not that you didn’t know words—

It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many,
And it’s hard to choose the words that will be your own.

From those centuries we human beings bring with us
The simple solutions and songs,

The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies
All in service to a simple idea:

That we can make a house called tomorrow.
What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day,

Is ourselves.  And that’s all we need
To start.  That’s everything we require to keep going. 

Look back only for as long as you must,
Then go forward into the history you will make.

Be good, then better.  Write books.  Cure disease.
Make us proud.  Make yourself proud.

And those who came before you?  When you hear thunder,
Hear it as their applause.

====

Rios, Alberto. "A House called Tomorrow." Not Go Far Away Is My Name, Copper Canyon Press, 2020.  

You can read more about the poet here.

====

Be sure to check in with Kym, Kat, Sarah, and Vera (there is a linkup below) for more poetry full of hope today, and join us next Thursday for more poems in celebration of National Poetry Month. (And remember that any time is good for poetry, not just Thursdays in April!) 

You are invited to the Inlinkz link party!

Click here to enter