A Poem About Snow

The Snowfall Is So Silent
by Miguel de Unamuno translated by Robert Bly
The snowfall is so silent, so slow, bit by bit, with delicacy it settles down on the earth and covers over the fields. The silent snow comes down white and weightless; snowfall makes no noise, falls as forgetting falls, flake after flake. It covers the fields gently while frost attacks them with its sudden flashes of white; covers everything with its pure and silent covering; not one thing on the ground anywhere escapes it. And wherever it falls it stays, content and gay, for snow does not slip off as rain does, but it stays and sinks in. The flakes are skyflowers, pale lilies from the clouds, that wither on earth. They come down blossoming but then so quickly they are gone; they bloom only on the peak, above the mountains, and make the earth feel heavier when they die inside. Snow, delicate snow, that falls with such lightness on the head, on the feelings, come and cover over the sadness that lies always in my reason.

Madame Bovary

I finished Amy and Isabelle by Elizabeth Strout. Wonderful. Heart rending. Beautiful writing. In the novel, Madame Bovary by Gustav Flaubert is mentioned. I have yet to read it and it has literally been at the top of my "to read" list. Maggie B (thanks for the book idea Maggie!) and I are going to start reading it soon. If any of you dear readers care to join us please do.  We could talk about it via email or blog or something. Lydia Davis' recently translated version is supposed to be a masterpiece..."[Davis] has a finer ear for the natural cadences of English, in narrative and dialogue, than any of her predecessors, and there are many moments in her Madame Bovary when one pauses to admire how clean and spare a sentence seems by comparison with its earlier translated versions. . . . Only a very good writer indeed could have written it. . . . The bones of the original French show clearly through her English, and the rawness of her translation is, on the whole, invigorating." 
-Jonathan Raban, The New York Review of Books 

cowl-love

One of my goals, yeah right, over break was to knit a cowl. I bought some beautifully variegated emerald green yarn and knit what is more like a snood. It is soft and pretty but it is not at all what I originally wanted to knit. I did it rather quickly. Below is what I originally wanted and still want. But now I can't really validate buying more expensive yarn and school is about to begin. So the end of my wealth of extra time is nigh. Whine whine.

Below is the exquisite Herringbone Cowl at purl bee which I discovered on Poppy talk, fast becoming one of my favorite blogs, which means not so much since I heart a dozen blogs...oh well.


I think one of the things I need to work on is being patient and focusing on achieving what I really want without taking shortcuts because I inevitably regret them.

I am starting a new book. That is something I have time for. And it is not Winter's Bone, I can't handle that much melancholy right now. I am reading Amy and Isabelle- Elizabeth Strout. Which I certainly hope is less melancholy. I will let you know. Maggie B. loved it and she has wonderful taste in literature. And Elizabeth Strout wrote the Pulitzer winning Olive Kitteredge, which I loved.

Can you tell I am feeling blue? Lately that has been my default emotion. But to cheer me up, and you too should you need it.... Masterpiece Theatre has a brand new miniseries premiering this very evening!!!! Downtown Abbey


It has gotten some good reviews and should be very helpful to me on the next few cold Sunday evenings. Oh and just in case you don't have television, this is something you can watch online on the Masterpiece website, how utterly convenient (said with a British accent of course).

Oh yeah and I read a bit...

The Hunger Games Trilogy was my holiday, Apocolyptic, non-stop sci-fi, page turning indulgence.

This cookbook is turning into exactly what I needed to resuscitate my cooking blahs.

This has some fun crewel patterns in it, perfect for winter crafting.

This is one of my favorite novels and I haven't reread it in a few years...

This is my next read...

vacation means reading

I have been able to finish three, yes THREE books since vacation began. I finally finished the last book in the Millenium series, The Girl who Kicked the Hornets Nest. Wowzas. I really enjoyed it. One caveat- this book, as with all of the Larsson books, should be read continuously. Don't pick it up if you have anything else to do for a week. I made the mistake of starting it in early Spring before I could give it the attention it deserved. I had finals, papers, and preschool end -of- year shenanigans to deal with. So I would pick it up, read a bit, but not enough to understand what I was dealing with, and then let it go, only to pick it up a week later, search for my spot (because M. and I were reading it simultaneously and he kept losing my spot) and I felt confused longer than I should have. As with the rest of the series, there are lots of characters with those Swedish names that get muddled up a bit in my brain and lots going on. Such intriguing, edge of your seat fun.

After I finished the Larsson book, I picked up Push by Saphire. Precious was based on this book. Wow. I finished it rather quickly, its a little book, but it was super powerful. I don't want to ruin anything for anyone out there but, for me, with this book, Saphire joins the legions of Alice Walker and Toni Morrison. I was crying through much of it. I read most of it at the North Village soccer field while my kids played, sitting on an abandoned royal blue cot, sipping earl grey tea in a mason jar and trying not to bawl. Crazy lady.

Then I picked up Philip Roth's The Human Stain. So beautifully written. One of my favorite bits is the part about Iris's hair on page 129

"Her head of hair was something, a labryinthine, billowing wreath of spirals and ringlets, fuzzy as twine and large enough for use as Christmas ornamentation. All the disquiet of childhood seemed to have passed into the convolutions of her sinuous thicket of hair. Her irreversible hair. You could polish pots with it and no more alter its construction than if it were harvested from the inky depths of the sea, some kind of wiry reef-building organism, a dense living onyx hybrid of coral ad shrub, perhaps possessing medicinal properties."

Sometimes I wake up in the morning after a good all night soaker kind of rain, and my hair is a bit like that. But not quite so much.

I have picked up Frances Burney's, Evalina or The History of a Young Lady's Entrance into the World. But am not sure I am in the mood for an epistolary Victorian piece right now. We shall see...

I am excited about this?

I always have mixed feelings about a beloved book becoming a film. But this might just be very good, and something to look forward to in March when Spring and Winter still haven't made up their minds. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo... . Check out both trailers.

cookie delivery

This morning our house was bustling with the boys smearing buttercream frosting on sugar cookies and sprinkling them with nonpareils. And they were very good about not licking their fingers. I promise you. SO, if your children were the lucky recipients of our afternoon cookie delivery, they are safe to eat, I mean other than the fact that they are made with tons of butter, sugar and a scary amount of red food coloring. Really, the germs that they may contain are probably nothing compared to the main ingredients.... They had such fun running them around to their friends houses in North Village. It was so cute. They would come back home breathlessly asking for another bag of cookies.

AND like a child myself I couldn't wait to give them their Valentines Day presents. Well at least the main gifts, they will still get their vampire wax lips tomorrow.

I got the boys The D'Aulaire Book of Trolls and the D'Aulaire Book of Greek myths, because we didn't have a book of trolls and is any library complete without one? Ezra has already picked a favorite story that I read to him twice upon opening it. And Henry has outgrown his first book of Greek Mythology by Aliki, which we love but it is more of a quick who's who, not nearly as comprehensive as the D'Aulaires book. The D'aulaires are geniuses with their storytelling and illustrations. We do not have the book of Norse Myths.....which might be a great birthday present for Ezzie....

Oh and this post ties perfectly into my idea of a dream job: bakery and bookstore owner. Yes, I love teaching but I think if I was millionaire I might just forgo that and work with croissants and novels forever.

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down

This book is required reading for Family of the Special Needs Child, a class that is perhaps becoming my favorite this semester. That is a bit premature. I have only had two classes and the first few chapters of this book are not due to be read for a few weeks but I couldn't help myself. I was overcome by curiousity. And despite the fact that my Math for L.D. professor said our required reading is engrossing, I haven't gotten to the engrossing part yet. I wanted to read.

Here is the thing. If you are a teacher. Or a healthcare worker. If you are in any kind of public service. If you are in fact a human being living on this planet. You need to read this book. It is sad. And powerful and remarkable in so many ways. It was written by Anne Fadiman, a Western Ma. local. There is truly something in the water around here. If you live in western Ma. you are a blogger or a poet or a lyricist or a novelist or a playwright, You almost don't have a choice. And yes, I realize it is a bit silly to include blogger there. I guess I am giving myself airs.

This poignant tale is the story of the clashing of cultures between the Lees, an Immigrant Hmong family from Laos and the American medical team they encounter in California, when their youngest daughter begins to suffer from epilepsy. Fadiman does an extraordinary job weaving together the story of the Hmong people, the Lee family and the experiences of the small county hospital that provided services for little Lia. There is no bad guy here, just immense cultural difference and confusion. Everyone involved is doing what they believe is best for the little girl. But things go terribly wrong. Of course I haven't finished the book, I am trying not to, but I have a fairly good idea about how it ends.

Our class has been having these great discussions about the Special. Ed. process and the American education system and how to navigate it as a family, as an immigrant family, as a parent with special needs etc. And yesterday when a friend of mine from Uganda (who happens to be a single mom with a child who has special needs) came to visit I was reminded again of how difficult it is for so many reasons, how important cultural awareness and sensitivity is. And I am not talking about being politically correct. I am talking about being aware that there are differences and not to assume that our way is understood. There needs to be a better way to help families understand the process. Our class is pretty much devoted to that idea. Our system of transitioning children and families into Special. Ed. mostly doesn't work. How can we make it work? That is one of the things I love about my program. It is very critical. Occasionally one of my professors feels the need to remind us that they believe that Special. Ed. is a very good thing they just know it needs to be better.

this bears repeating

Thanks Constantina, for introducing me to Li -Young Lee. Two years and 15 days ago Rose passed away. And for a couple weeks now I have been thinking about the right words.

I cannot read this poem without tears.

From Blossoms
-by Li-Young Lee

From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the boy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches.

From laden boughs, from hands,
from sweet fellowship in the bins,
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.

O, to take what we love inside,
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade,
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of peach.

There are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom.

***

a river of words

Sometimes I feel the need to apologize for dreaming big for my kids. After all, my child is no more special than your child, except to me. But, I guess I should say that to me dreaming big doesn't have anything to do with how much education he will have or how much money he will make as an adult, instead it has to do with how kind he is and to what extent he has made use of his gifts. And I don't think that those desires of mine warrant any apologies. I just have this innate thing with humility I guess. Does any of this make sense?

While I was ordering my books for school, I ran across a gem of a children's book. I decided I would order a book or two for Henry's birthday in February. Yes, we have lots of books. I am a book whore, it could be worse. This book by Jen Bryant and Melissa Sweet spoke to me when I saw it. It is about William Carlos WIlliams. Ever since Henry declared that he was going to be a writer and artist, I have thought about how I could foster that in him. What better way than to support that verve for creating than to provide him with a beautiful book about a writer who wrote about ordinary things in his own distinct way. And the book describes his life and work in such a lovely way. I have always admired his poetry and love to see it presented alongside his life story in a children's book.

Complaint

(an excerpt)

They call me and I go.

It is a frozen road

past midnight, a dust

of snow caught

in the rigid wheeltracks.

The door opens.

I smile, enter and

shake off the cold.

Olive Kitteredge

I just finished Olive Kitteredge by Elizabeth Strout (thanks to maggie b. for giving me this gem). I still feel a little choked up after reading this book.

There are books that transport you to a different time or place, I love those. There are books that teach you how to do/make useful and /or beautiful things, I love those too.

There are books that beautifully celebrate the quotidien. Life can feel small sometimes. We spend so much time cleaning crumbs off a table, coercing our children to getting into the bath, thinking of what we need to buy at the grocery store, waiting for the next, better thing. And so I love to read a book that reminds me how beautiful it is to sweep crumbs off a table. And I love to read a book that reminds me of the beauty of everyone and the everyday. Because we all need those reminders, almost constantly. At least I do.

And I should say, that while this book reminded me of the importance and beauty of the everyday, it did so in a completely unsentimental, non-precious sort of way.

The characters in this book are living, breathing people, and that is another piece that make this book such a good read.

It's also so New England, and being a New Englander, I love that.

And now to deal with a 7yr. old's bloody nose, teeth brushing and bedtime...

Hello 2010! You are so sci-fi.

Holiday Rundown

What I ate too much of:

Sponge candy from Olivers in Batavia. A family tradition. Aunt Morene and Uncle David send us boxes of this every year...It is unbelievably delicious. I am pretty sure that crack is one of the main ingredients.

What I read:

The first two books became my appendages for a few days. The last book I am still reading. I highly recommend all three. The image size is not a reflection of how engrossing the books were...

Other notable books we received...

Amy gave me this to feed my passion for Virginia Lee Burton, a remarkable woman and artist.

This exquisite book had the kids mesmerized. I appreciate the section on War Maidens... I see a lot of tracing paper in our future...

This is a classic book about Santa claus written by L. Frank Baum. The illustrations are gorgeous.

Bats at the Library and Bats at the Beach, both Harcourt books from Amy, are sure to be favorites. The illustrations are so warm and sweet. I love that the stories are written in verse. Perfect for a new reader.

a book and some bubbling 'strone

For my Literacy for LD class, I am tutoring a teen who has ADHD. Mostly we are working on reading comprehension skills, which you can imagine are tough for someone who has trouble focusing. We meet twice weekly and we discuss a book we are reading: Kristin Cashore's Graceling. It has been so much fun to see her warm up to this book. At first I was only having her work on elements that she could pull straight from the text but she has been making some really thoughtful inferences. I love this book. It is a Fantasy about a young girl who has a grace or uncanny skill. I won't spoil it by telling you what it is but I will say that she is a strong, confident, intelligent, female character within an adventurous story that has some real depth to it. It's a book I want my boys to read in a few years and I would definitely foist it on any daughter of mine. Oh yeah, and it's a Harcourt book so I got a free copy from Amy.

Today I am home with two sick kids. Ezra has a tiny cough and Henry has been battling a fever and cough for a few days now (no swine flu I am pretty sure). I have a ton of work to do, but I am trying to concentrate (except for a bit of therapeutic blogging) on the kids and domestic stuff. Thus the low sugar, high fiber oatmeal cookies and minestrone soup made with a bushel of garlic, oh and laundry, a bathtub full.

Right now the boys are drinking their tea (Ezra's current fave is Twinings Chamomile -Apple, Henry prefers Twinings Lemon-Ginger), eating popcorn and watching Curious George.

The sky is gray and drippy. Soup is bubbling on the stove and for the moment, everything is peaceful.

Mark Bittman's Minestrone, from How to Cook everything Vegetarian

1/4 c. olive oil

1 medium onion, chopped

1 carrot, chopped

1 celery stalk, chopped

1 1/2 -2 cups hard veg. such as potato, squash, turnips diced

salt and pepper

6 cups stock

1 cup cored peeled and seeded chopped tomato or canned

1 1/2 cup soft veg, such as green beans, zuchinni, cooked dried beans, kale etc.

parmesan rind cut into tiny pieces

1/2 c. chopped parsley

saute carrots , onions, celery in oil.

add hard veg., parmesan, salt, pepper, stock and tomato bring to a boil until veg is soft.

add soft veg. and parsley, simmer until very tender

adjust seasoning

So simple, easy and special, especially when every vegetable is local, except for the enormous Quaker potatoes the in-laws brought from Dill's garden in the Finger Lakes.

The History of Love

This morning, while sipping my Uncle Kevin's cold brewed coffee, which really deserves it's own post, and munching on a chewy sesame seed bagel (a leftover from our weekend in the Berkshires, which was as usual, WONDERFUL), I finished this novel, with moist eyes.

While in NYC Laura lent me a book, On Love (see side bar) and Rebecca gave me a Norton book, The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. (She has recently been promoted to PUBLICIST at Norton, congrats cousin Reb). I have been reading On Love and find it interesting for it's somewhat comical, philosophical ramblings on a love affair. But I found that I needed a break from it. I needed to read something with more of a narrative?

Today, if you can find it possible, go find a copy of A History of Love by NIcole Krauss. Krauss' writing is beautiful. The story is a bittersweet and intricate love story. And there are stories within the story. The title, A History of Love, is the title of a book written by one of the main characters.

Here is a passage I love (from the novel within the novel), and there are many:

"My heart is weak and unreliable. When I go it will be my heart. I try to burden it as little as possible. If something is going to have an impact, I direct it elsewhere. My gut for example, or my lungs, which might seize up for a moment but never yet failed to take another breath. When I pass a mirror and catch a glimpse of myself, or I'm at the bus stop and some kids come up behind me and say Who smells shit?- small daily humiliations- these I take, generally speaking, in my liver. Other damages I take in other places. The pancreas I reserve for being struck by all that's been lost. It's true that there's so much and the organ is so small. But. You would be surprised by how much it can take, all I feel is a quick sharp pain and then it is over.

Sometimes I imagine my own autopsy. Disappointment in myself: right kidney. Disappointment of others in me: left kidney. Personal failures: kishkes. I don't meant to make it sound that I've made a science of it. It's not that well thought out. I take it where it comes. It's just that I notice certain patterns. When the clocks are turned back and the dark falls before I am ready, this, for reasons I can't explain, I feel in my wrists. And when I wake up and my fingers are stiff, almost certainly I was dreaming of my childhood. The field where we used to play. The field in which everything was discovered and everything was possible. (We ran so hard we thought we would spit blood: to me that is the sound of childhood, heavy breathing and shoes scraping the hard earth.) Stiffness of the fingers is the dream of childhood as it's been returned to me at the end of m life. I have to run them under the hot water, steam clouding the mirror, outside the rustle of pigeons. Yesterday I saw a man kicking a dog and I felt it behind my eyes. I don't know what to call this, a place before tears. The pain of forgetting: spine. The pain of remembering: spine. All of the times I have suddenly realized my parents are dead, even now, it still surprises me, to exist in the world while that which made me has ceased to exist: my knees, it takes half a tube of Ben-Gay and a big production just to bend them. To everything a season, to every time I've woken only to make the mistake of believing for a moment that someone was sleeping beside me: a hemorrhoid. Loneliness: there is no organ that can take it all."

bread and frozen laundry

oatmeal bread

Today I stayed home from work again. I probably could have gone, okay definitely. But my boss basically told me to stay home and my nose is still very stuffy. I know I benefited from the extra hours at home. Here is what I did: 3 loads of laundry, washed and hung up (one of which did not finish the spin cycle which meant carrying it to the line quite wet and labor intensive). Then, with a wet head (from shower) and wet jeans (from un-spun clothes leaking through basket onto self) I wrestled with an enormous duvet cover in an icy wind and laughed at myself as I tried to get the dripping brown monster onto our pathetic line without dragging it over much on the muddy ground. My hands were red, my head was wet. My jeans were wet and all I could think of was poor Claire Fraser from the Outlander time travel series and how hard she (yes, the fictional character) must have had it. I mean, going from being a doctor in the 1960s to living in the Highlands of Scotland and then the wilds of the Carolinas in the late 1700s must have been rough. And then I had even more reason to laugh at myself. This year I have indulged in more engrossing (and yes, slightly trashy if we are going to be snobbish here)... ahem, literature then I have in years. Between the Twilight and the Outlander series', I have spent countless hours completely escaping. I think it has a lot to do with how long and difficult the winter was. But now, I am going to try to turn my attentions elsewhere. Live in The Now, Kelly! Which is why I am baking bread and walking and um... blogging about what I did earlier...

Here is how I make bread Unless it is NYTimes or challah or something else special. I do it the same way I make pizza dough. 2 cups luke water, roughly a tsp. of yeast per cup, a bit of something sweet, a bit of some salt and enough flour (wheat germ, oats etc.) to make a sponge... that I let rise for an hour or more, then I mix in more flour etc...a bit at a time, until my finger goes in and out pretty clean, at which time you will be kneading and not using a spoon. Then I let that rise until it doubles and then punch it down, shape, let rise 20 minutes or so and bake it. A second long rise (to let double would also be good).

Maurice Sendak and ELse Holmelund Minarik

I know this is  too obvious. I think that every book Sendak has made is an important contribution to children's literature. Let's not forget his magical collaberation with Carole King (thanks Bird) Really Rosie which I can sing by heart. Our favorite Sendaks are Where The Wild Things are, which Henry at age two was recorded reciting to Auntie Michaela. The Little Bear series and The Nutshell Kids series, a set of mini books  (what is it with tiny books, I love'em) which grew out of the Really Rosie soundtrack, or vise versa. 

I would love to elaborate but I am much to distracted with thoughts of voting tomorrow. With the hope of having a decent President. I am ready to get on my knees and pray. After praying, I will finally sew together those bibs and use my snap fastener for the first time. 

MIA

So sorry. My internet connection has been ack lately. I have had a lot that I wanted to share too. I hate playing catch up though. It seems sort of cheap. I will pretend today is Monday. Virginia Lee Burton anyone? We have 4 of her books. Only three are represented here. The Little House is lost somewhere on the shelf.  I seem to be drawn to artist/writers from the 40's and fifties. Something about the optimistic aesthetic from that time period pleases me. My favorite textiles seem to be from the same pd. Mike Mulligan is probably her most famous. Matt loved it as a child. Burton's  Life Story is wonderful, although my kids could care less about it. It is basically an illustrated time line beginning with a red hot fiery ball of matter and ending with a bucolic farm scene and then, " And now it is your life story and you play the leading role..." The images are beautiful and have a Grandma Moses feel to them. Auntie Michaela from San Francisco, gave us Maybelle the cable car, which is really sweet. I think the one book that would complete our collection (of my personal favorites ) would be Katy and the Big Snow. A lovely story about a persevering little snow plow named Katy (great material for budding feminists). I am not a huge fan of talking cars and machines, but let's face it, the boys are into that kind of thing. Virginia Lee Burton has a way of  animating machines/houses etc.  in a manner that is not cheap or "Disney" in any way. All of her books have gentle morals in them, whether it be  honoring the underdog, celebrating perseverance and grace or embracing the beauty of  the "old".  

Monday is for Nursery Rhymes

When Henry was born, we were blessed with two volumes of Nursery rhymes edited by Iona Opie and Illustrated by the very talented Rosemary Wells. Look up Rosemary's other books, I adore her characters. We have a couple others by her but I couldn't share this post with them. Amy gave us the first two volumes, which eventually fell apart. In truth, half of our library has been given to us by Amy who was an associate editor of Children's Pub. at Candlewick Press. Now that she is managing editor at Harcourt, Houghton and Co. we will miss those wonderful Candlewick books! We were among the lucky few to snag a limited edition double volume set after our first two perished.  

I love nursery rhymes. Henry, being the first child, benefited greatly from this near obsession of mine. I think that if you pick the first line of any of these rhymes, I could finish it for you. 
Iona chose the most magical rhymes for this book.

Rosemary Wells' interpretations are refreshing, creative, gorgeous and playful.

As a preschool teacher I can attest to the fact that rhymes are a great way for children to learn about rhythm, music etc. and a creative way to help children ease into a transition. I had a dozen or so rhymes up my sleeve to get Henry from one place/activity to another without  a tantrum. 


This is  book that I actually love to sit down and read to my kids. 


"Up the wooden hill..." I used to recite every time I brought Henry to my mothers on mornings when I had to work. Before long, he was chanting it with me...  

Molly Bang

I love Molly Bang. I love that each of her books has a different illustration style, although the two we own aren't the best examples of that. The Grey Lady and the Strawberry Snatcher is a delightfully strange, wordless picture book about an adorable elderly lady who travels to the market and is followed home by a weird blue creature who desperately wants those berries. The  chase that ensues is action packed and leads us through woods, swamp and brambles and finally to the comfort of the grey lady's home and family. When Sophie Gets Angry, Really Angry has been a crucial addition to our library for therapeutic reasons. When Sophie gets angry she "stomps, she screams , she wants to smash the world to smithereens, she roars a red, red roar... then she runs". The illustrations are bright and energetic and Sophie's "aura" changes color as her emotions change. 

Lois Lenski

Monday is going to be children's book series day. Every Monday I will try to highlight some of our family's favorite writers and illustrators. Today I have chosen Lois Lenski.  Lois's  illustrations are simple, and classic.   She started writing the Mr. Small books in the late forties and they still have a strong appeal to kids. Henry had quite an attachment to Cowboy Small. It was this book that inspired two yr. old Henry to tell me that my breastmilk tasted like chuck wagon coffee. They are a tad dated in the way that you would expect books written in the 1940s to be, but not overly so. They are a bit smaller which both of my boys appreciate. Ezra likes to sleep with small books instead of an animal. The books we have are new editions in full color. I love the palettes they chose.