Life · Writing

A Trip to Maine

This is my response to this week’s Writer’s Workshop prompts

12 things I learned and/or grew to appreciate this month week (because I’ve been in Maine for the week):

  1. I now know the difference between a tadpole, polywog, and froglet. This is a polywog:

          A tadpole doesn’t have any legs and a froglet has all four. This polywog, as you can see(maybe), only has two legs.

          2. Maine blueberries grow low to the ground and are tiny, compared to our New York blueberry bushes. They are harvested with special rakes. They have blueberry bushes in Maine, too, but those teeny berries from the ground plants are PACKED with flavor. Who knew?

          3. There is more than one Fort Knox. My dad was stationed in Fort Knox, KY, and it’s known for all the gold there. But before that Fort Knox, there was a Fort Knox in Maine built in the mid-1800s. It’s a massive granite fortress built on the edge of the Penobscot River.

          Fort Knox outside wall
          Fort Knox — the inside compound

          4. Perspective is always important. When you’re looking from the outside, you can’t see in very well (see top Ft. Knox photo). But when you’re looking from the inside out, the world just seems to open up.

          From inside Ft. Knox.

          5. The Penobscot Narrows Bridge is one of only five bridge observatories in the world. The other four are in China, Thailand, Slovakia, and South Korea.

          Looking up at the Penobscot Observatory from our car.

          6. Perspective is always important. (Yes, I already said that.) Looking down and looking up are totally different views.

          Looking down from the Penobscot Observatory at our car.

          7. Beaches hold amazing surprises.

          We found this crab shell on the beach full of… we didn’t know! It turns out they are Marine Springtails, a relative of the snow fleas I’ve seen at times in New York. They’re an important part of the beach ecosystem, part of nature’s clean-up crew.

          8. Museums are fun.

          We stopped at the Penobscot Maritime Museum, mostly because of this guy beckoning us in. I learned more about sardines than I thought possible.

          9. Sometimes kids don’t appreciate museums.

          “Boring who needs fishermen dont prezerve fishing”

          This was in a box of comments that I looked through. It made me laugh — and feel a little sad for the kid who wrote it.

          10. Museums can be very funny for kids (big and small) who engage with them.

          Captioned: Which animal is not stuffed?

          This photograph was hanging in the ladies room at the Penobscot Maritime Museum. It was taken by a turn of the 20th century photographer, Charles Coombs, who was also an undertaker and taxidermist. The picture made me laugh.

          11. Floating classrooms can be massive.

          The big ship in the back is called The State of Maine and recently came into Castine, home to the Maine Maritime Academy. Its primary purpose is for training Maine Maritime cadets while also being available for federal humanitarian assistance and disaster relief mission. We went to see it but couldn’t get any closer than this.

          12. Sunsets are beautiful everywhere.

          Life · poetry

          Because I Lack Chutzpah

          Prompt: List ten things you would say to ten different people in your life, if you had the chutzpah.

          1. Please stop coming by the house.
          2. Please come by the house and help me sort through all this.
          3. Call your doctor.
          4. Do your job.
          5. Should you be eating that?
          6. Stop being such a bitch.
          7. Do you remember that time twenty years ago when I came to you for help and you shut the door on me?
          8. As a Christian, how do you feel about warehousing people? What would Jesus do?
          9. Could I tell you my side of the story?
          10. I love you.

          This is a response to one of the prompts in this week’s Writer’s Workshop.

          Ten things I would say. Ten people. No chutzpah.


          Here’s a poem with the names of those 10 people hidden inside in no particular order.

          A hadj
          I’m dreaming of a hadje
          Anywhere
          Let me look
          Arles looks nice
          (Van Gogh and all that)
          Or a farm
          Where I could grab udder teats
          And milk a cow by hand
          Buy ripe fruit and vegetables
          Harvested that day
          Or visit the Cape
          And hope terrapins emerge
          From brackish waters
          Travel to South America
          See pika
          (thy love for small animals satisfied)
          Flee
          Annotate
          Breathe deeply
          Visit an adobe house
          Wear a robe
          Kahuna visit
          Honestly, though,
          The best ever
          Is home
          Always home

          poetry

          Exploring Roots

          An ancester named Zidsel is in my tree
          ’twas a new name to me
          Looking through the smoke of generations past
          (No — no one asked)
          I am curious about my roots
          And look for attributes
          Genetically passed down my tree
          So that I understand me

          Who am I? Why am I the way I am?
          It’s an anagram
          I try to rearrange letters to see
          Nature? Nurture? What’s the key?

          Zidsel married Peder to whom she bore
          Four children, maybe more
          My great-grandfather Andreas was her son
          He left Denmark — US life begun

          I think, though, I would learn the most
          Walking Zidsel’s Jutland coast
          Seeing where she was born and died
          Visiting the church where she was a bride
          Finding old homes in the town of Varde
          Imagining Zidsel in the yard
          Nearly two centuries have gone by
          Still, I’d like to give it a try


          One of this week’s Writer’s Prompts from the Writer’s Workshop was to write a post based on the word smoke.

          This poem is what grew out of that.

          Well, that, and some poking around on Ancestry.

          fiction

          A Fractured Fairy Tale

          1Once upon a time there was a king who had a magic mirror that spoke only the truth.

          2Every day, he would stand in front of the magic mirror and say,
          “Mirror, mirror on the wall,
          who’s the richest king of all.”

          3Every day, the mirror would respond,
          “Oh mighty king, you know your brand —
          you are richest in the land.”

          4One day, the king, after hearing a story about a king named Midas, changed his question and asked,
          “Mirror, mirror, may I be bold
          and ask who has the mostest gold?”

          5The mirror responded,
          “Your riches lie in resources many,
          but Midas has gold more plenty.”

          6The king frowned because this was not the answer he wanted to hear and he demanded that mirror grant him some magic so that he could have more gold than Midas.

          7When he woke up the next morning, he reached over to shut off the alarm clock and it turned to gold when he touched it — in fact, everything he touched turned immediately to gold, including all the clothes in his closet when he went to get dressed.

          8So he said to the mirror,
          “Mirror, mirror, tell me true,
          what I am supposed to do?
          I have no clothes and a parade to march in.
          Is there something you can put some starch in?”

          9The mirror, for the first time in her existence, told a little white lie,
          “Oh king, it’s not what you suppose —
          When I look at you, I see fine clothes.
          March in what you now are wearing —
          People will cheer as they are staring.”


          This is my response to The Writer’s Workshop Prompt: Write a post in exactly 9 sentences. Clearly, I have trouble counting. Forgive me.

          Also, there needs to be a final line. What do you suggest?