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One of my top five "strengths" from Strengthsfinder is "input" which means that I love information. Loads and loads of information. I live for it.  A slowly creeping springtime makes me think of getting out to the field and picking rock.  On some days I love to wear makeup. On other days I don't want to touch the stuff. To each their own.  Have you ever noticed how toddlers resemble drunk people, or vice versa? Today I got to witness an adorable scene on a pile of straw bales at a petting zoo between my little niece and another toddler stranger. I tried to capture it.  Today I had to go downtown on off peak times. I both love that I was able to take public transportation and hate that a twenty minute car ride took an hour and a half by train.  It seems I have a lot to say about spring. If you follow my social media you'll likely see some posts about gardening because I still love connecting to my roots and growing at least some of my food each summer. This year I'm doing more flowers and herbs and can't wait to get started. My Dad has already planted his seedling tomatoes (he plants them on St. Patrick's Day - just like his mom did). I start to chomp at the bit about now and start imagining the wonderful scents and sights the garden will bring. It got me thinking about that last frost and how difficult it is to predict and how challenging it is to hold yourself back from planting early. Ah, spring.  I have acquiesced to many requests of late and am suddenly coming up against the dreaded double booking. Double booking presents a puzzle of priorities as I try to balance responsibility with desire. It feels like this:  I'm from a small town in Wisconsin and quite proud of it. I may suffer from the Lake Wobegon effect....nah.  Tonight's poem is somewhat educational. In case you ever wondered what a dairy cow ate in the winter time - more memories from the farm.  It's St. Patrick's day! Years ago my ancestors were immigrants. I can't imagine what a challenging and brave thing to do, to leave the life they knew to travel to a place they've never been and make a life they've never known. I'm impressed by all the adversity immigrants to new countries continue to overcome to seek out opportunities in a new home. I'm feeling depths of gratitude to my German and Irish predecessors for finding their way to the forests of Wisconsin.  Today we went to the Twin Cities Autoshow down at the Minneapolis Convention Center. It is an annual tradition and I love it! We spent about five hours sitting in all our favorite vehicles, being driven around thrilling simulation tracks, and test driving vehicles around down town. I love cars and am eager for the new paths that eco-friendly designs and automated vehicle technology are taking us down. If you live in the Twin Cities area, I highly recommend our autoshow.  March is a duplicitous month here in the midwest. Walking through downtown Minneapolis today was a melody of seasonal sensations as the sun warmed and the wind cooled. It reminded me of springtime walks I used to take to the creek in the woods on our land. I wrote a poem about it.  Stephen Hawking has passed away at the age of 76. It's also 3.14 pi day. This coincidence has prompted some reflection on how we validate our own lives, our hours spent breathing.  I love public speaking. You know that dream where you're giving a speech and look down and realize you are in your birthday suit? Nah, me neither.  Five stanzas about noses tonight. I know, really, I've outdone myself. The thought for my poem came from the myriad of faces I saw on my walk to the bus and ride through downtown Minneapolis. I find it amazing how we are so closely related genetically and yet the expression of those genes, even on our very faces, is so varying. The nose knows.  Feeding bottle babies is one of the first chores we got to do growing up on the farm. And I say "got to" because it was really that - at a young age we would beg to be a part of the fun and operation of doing chores. It wasn't always evident how to do the task safely. In fact, one of my first tries at feeding a bottle baby resulted in a horrible bloody nose when I held the bottle parallel to my own little nose, against earlier warnings, and the baby bucked the bottle right into my waiting face. Still, feeding the bottle babies was one of the ways that I learned a keen appreciation for satisfaction in a job well done.  We Minnesotans find many ways to stay warm in the winter - from dancing sock-footed in the open dining room of a friend - to leeching heat from a toasty mug of soup. Spring is just around the corner.  International Women's Day is today and what a lovely holiday. I have been blessed with four sisters by blood, one sister by marriage, and many sisters of the heart- and they all have given me love and support. Today's poem is for them.  I'll never forget the morning I learned about the nefarious ways of weasels. I had finished milking cows and was happily making my way to the chicken coup with their feed. I opened the door to deliver breakfast and gather eggs and what met my eyes will be burned in my memory forever. Weasels decapitate and suck the blood from chickens. It's a thing. Look it up. Or don't. Read the poem, you'll get it.  |
AuthorCreative enthusiast, gregarious naturalist, opinionated activist, RYT 200. Amy Kay Czechowicz completed a poetry challenge for 2018 and 2020 by posting an original poem daily to this blog. She writes here occasionally to drop nuggets of wisdom she picks up along her way. You can read her poems and posts by clicking and exploring below! Search Poems
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