Just a few rows tonight. I told myself I might only work for 5 or 10 minutes some days, and so far I have always put at least half an hour into a project every day. Even three rows is close to 30 minutes of time.
Toad by Beth Weaver-Kreider
the woman who is becoming has learned to song of the toad how the restless lights of lawns and gardens draw fluttering moths how ancient the pull of desire in the waiting darkness how cool the morning grass how the jewel of light rests between the eyes
A couple rows on the white panel, and dogwood in the rain. These days I am cataloguing some of the things that bring me real hope, like the four good souls of Artemis II and their marvelous team, the joy of the Singing Resistance folks, the absolute dogged courage and persistence of Mrs. Frazzled and her friends who are advocating for women abused by men on The Hill. So many threads being woven for new social realities to grow.
The Slingshot Effect by Beth Weaver-Kreider
What power slings you around the Moon? What hope takes hold like gravity? What force takes your hand and leads you home?
So much can go wrong, so many possibilities to be pulled off course, so many people throwing their weight toward the shiniest object, so few willing to enter the darkness on the other side.
But there in the dark you can see the glowing craters that remind you of the shining spirits of your loved ones, you can reach out and feel the arms of your beloveds surrounding you.
Can you feel what draws you through the silence to begin the journey home: the hope, the kindness, the tenderness of a new world rising?
A crowd of women satisfied in their precise calculations watches you reenter, joyfully and reverently, green and safe and changed forever.
My neighbor’s tulips, and a few more rows on the white panel. I am loving how this bamboo yarn crochets up, how the rows of double crochet stitches in this pattern create little flowers in the mesh. And the finished Into The Woods Quilt! The Janus School Gala is this Saturday. Click the LINK for tickets, to make a donation, or to find out how to bid for auction items online!
Today’s poem is a haibun, a form developed in the 17th century by history’s most renowned haiku poet, Matsuo Bashō. It begins with a short piece of prose, and ends with a haiku commentary on the prose.
Merit a haibun by Beth Weaver-Kreider
Mr. Hegseth claims his fighting force will be solely based on merit (by which he means he will not accept women), a word which can only be described as ironic, coming from a drunk chosen from the daytime TV couch, who had mismanaged every business he attempted to lead. Meritorious comes from the Latin verb mereō, which means “to earn, or to deserve.” His role might better be described as meretricious, which means empty and gaudy and lacking in true value. Meretrix, from the Latin, is a feminine noun rooted also in mereō, referring to women who earned their living from prostitution. Like Hegseth, the language devalues the inherent merit of women.
the worth of women is not determined by the opinions of men
I finished the grey panel today and began on the white. I think I can see my way to finish this one. I had my doubts for a while. Went up to see my friend Sam Lewis today. Saw lots of buds and blooms, a flock of deer (I love their tails!) and a grumpy red-tailed hawk (she was making a sort of growling sound). At least three new kite remnants in the trees and wires.
Carrying Water for the Patriarchy by Beth Weaver-Kreider
See how she trades away her own desire for desirability, thinks proximity to power will bring her power, thinks that will bring her safety, puts on a mask to immobilize her face, performs her femininity with vacuous eyes and fatuous lies, a puppet for the lords of greed.
A yellow tulip that has been blooming for 20 years (a baby shower gift), more rows on the grey panel, and the Midwife card from Nick Bantock’s Archeo deck.
Artemis
by Beth Weaver-Kreider
How apt that now when so much is at stake for girls when women unleash the hounds of Artemis upon the ones who prey upon our young when we call out against the cruelty yearning for a more humane way that we would send this arrow moonward this rocket basket of beautiful souls into space to commune with the moon and name one of her dimples for a beloved one to show us we can be human again
In Our Lady’s Garden, tall birds strut and bow, ravens call from high in the branches of an old oak tree, a deer steps out from the brambles, a long green snake winds its way through the grasses, and a ladybug redder than a drop of blood takes wing. An owl calls from deep in the shadowed forest.
Here you feel your grandmothers’ eyes upon you, you hear your name in the breeze that rattle the branches of the witch hazel, and the scent of roses surrounds you.
You could take on any shape you choose. Any word will transport you. Any fluttering leaf could become a wing.
Today’s poem is a quickie. I like the basic idea, but I’m throwing down the ideas tonight in hopes that I can come back later and refine it if I still like it.
Vampire by Beth Weaver-Kreider
He needs our outrage, our fear, our despair. He feeds on our anger, our exhaustion. Creates chaos, watches hungrily for morsels of panic to consume. Do not invite him in. We must starve him. Feed him our fortitude, our joy, our whimsy. Prepare feasts of compassion for our neighbors, banquets of beauty and art, fiestas of free thinking, Gorge him with humor and hilarity. These things he cannot abide. They will not nourish him. Bring him into the sunlight.
Crocheting with such fine yarn is really slow going. This is when I usually start to abandon a project. So this is the point of my choice to finish my UFOs for this 100 days—to keep me engaged in projects that don’t show a lot of progress.
shadblow snow scatters petals across the walk last year’s nest (left empty by robins fledged last spring) hidden now (almost) in starry blossoms
this tree (named for the fish that fed the Susquehannocks) spawns rose and purple berries (sharp tang, and sweet) in May and June each blossom now a promise of tomorrow’s delight
I took up my bamboo shrug project today. I haven’t worked on it for a long time, so I had to figure out the pattern of stitches again, and I made two rows before I realized that I had started at the wrong point in the pattern, so I unraveled back to my starting point and got it right the second time. I love the silky softness of this yarn.
Happy National Poetry Month!
Hunger by Beth Weaver-Kreider
What are you really hungry for? –Rob Brezsny
Today I have the hunger of the crow, that is to say, ravenous for shiny, starving for the artful view of chimney tops and aerials, roof ledges, and nests high and twiggy in the sycamore, near to where the eagles feed their own insatiable young.
Today hunger resides not in my belly, round as it is with the recent birth of my cronehood, but is lodged somewhere inside my indigo eye, deeper dark even than my wings. If I could, I would consume the world with my shining eyes, filling my soul with the map of my unquenchable yearning.
Thank You for Your Attention to This Matter by Beth Weaver-Kreider
Thank you for your attention to this matter this one right over here no don’t look that way attend please to this particular matter to which I am currently bringing your attention so that you are looking away when I am over here putting my hand in the cookie jar taking away your money and your health insurance to give to my billionaire buddies who bought me this gig
Thank you for attending to this meaningless prattle THIS ALL CAPS RANTING this twittering gabble while I am busy redacting my name from these files which I said did not exist but which do unfortunately exist and in which my name may or may not appear once or twice or hundreds of times
Thank you for your attention which I will direct here to these people I hate and I want you to hate to these I call garbage and piggies to these stupid women these stupid humans doing their stupid human tricks so you will not look at my bigotry at how stupid I am becoming how wit-addled at how my incompetence daily compounds
Wait. You don’t agree with me about the immigrants? Then attend here to my tariffs the greatest tariffs I tell you for your own good your attention please look over here so you do not see boats exploding in the ocean men in the water clinging to debris just before your military drones rain death upon them
Attention Attention Thank you for your attention to this matter
