Jeannine Hall Gailey's Blog

Zinnias with wildfire smoke sun, McMurtrey’s

Wildfire Smoke, Red Moons, and Other Signs

September began with odd signs: red moons, smoke-smothered skies. Are we done with the apocalypse yet? I stayed inside the house most of the week, asthma and itchy eyes keeping me from my beloved garden. It is now said that we have three seasons instead of two in the Pacific Northwest, instead of Rain and Summer we have Rain, Summer, and Smoke. It definitely has been the case the last few years. September is usually a hopeful time for me, but it was hard to get into a better mood trapped in the house and feeling overwhelmed by the heat and heaviness of the air, not to mention the news. (Getting rid of all vaccines in Florida? That’ll be great for Americans’ health. Just kidding.) Tonight is a total lunar eclipse, a Blood Corn Moon, though we won’t see in here in North America. I can still feel the eclipses though—something about them makes me uneasy, jittery. If eclipses are a portent, what are they portending? Will it finally be something good?

Red moon, September

September 2nd was the book launch for our friend Martha Silano’s Terminal Surreal, which was online, and at which many people read Martha’s poems from the book since Marty is no longer with us. It was also Martha’s birthday. A reminder to celebrate your friends as much as you can while they are alive. I also thought about the fact that so many people talked about how much they loved Marty’s work—after she was dead. It would have been much appreciated while she was alive, I am sure. Writers rarely hear from their fans, until they are very famous, and often can’t tell if their work is reaching anyone or not. The last Best American Poetry was published that day as well, after announcing the series was ending. NEA grants and BAP going away? I don’t know if fewer accolades make for fewer readers or not. How do you find the poets and authors you love? Bookstore strolls? Reading reviews? Reading anthologies? Another thing to think about.

Kelli and I with dahlias, McMurtrey’s

Poet Friend Visits and Flower/Pumpkin Farms

In happier news, my poet friend Kelli Russell Agodon and her husband Rose came out for a visit and after brunch we made a field trip to McMurtrey’s where we saw gigantic pumpkins, tons of dahlias and sunflowers, and cut bouquets to bring home. It was nice to be outside right as the smoke started to subside, and the rain came back – which hopefully will help all the wildfires. I got to talk about poetry and enjoy fall blooms and, you know, try to do that thing where you celebrate the good things in life: friends, flowers, etc. Glenn’s credit for the photos.

McMurtrey’s Red barn, zinnias, and pumpkins

Today the air was finally clear enough to not even worry about carrying my inhaler or wearing a mask outside, and we took advantage of it by going out to another farm – Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin – and came back with a brand new batch of just-picked apples, sunflowers, and corn, as well as mustard, jam, and pickles. I also got to visit a bookstore for the first time in a long time which cheered me up as well. Just being around books makes me feel better, and seeing other people reading books. I’m such a nerd, right?

It was also cool enough to need a jacket, and that along with the pumpkin viewing put me in the right fall mood, I think. I will try to think positively, write poems, send out work, and finish the contest judging I’ve got in front of me. If the smoke and heat stay clear long enough, maybe my brain will function well enough to actually do those things. Many people with MS curse the summertime, with good reason – all that heat and sun short-fuse our systems. But fall is a season we can love, so long as it doesn’t mean everything’s on fire.

Happy September! Last Days of Lavender Gardens and Hot Air Balloons

This week was more gentle than the last few, despite some smoke and haze in the air keeping me from getting out as much as I wanted to. We visited McMurtrey Farm flower field just as a hot air balloon took off from just across the river (shot at left) among the sunflowers, and the next day we went to say our goodbyes to the local Lavender Farm (until September 20th, when it reopens as a local Pumpkin Farm!) We took home dahlias and daisies and sunflowers, enough for two bouquets and one for our neighbor. In boring homeowner news, we had our asphalt driveway repaved, which was too expensive, but I guess our HOA requires it now? I am reminded that homeownership is full of unexpected costs. But it is beautiful here. The hummingbirds are busy in the garden, as are the wasps, and baby chickadees, flickers, and Stellar’s jays. Below are some pictures from McMurtrey, which also becomes a pumpkin patch soon (and then a Christmas tree farm!)

And from the last day at JB Family Growers Lavender Farm:

Preparing for Fall, and Judging Poetry Contests

Although it’s still warm (with wildfire smoke), fall is approaching, and I’m already ready for dishes featuring delicata squash and our late-harvest corn. Getting the house ready for more visitors, I’m also trying to make space for my books (which my unread stack is now big enough for its own Ikea bookshelf) and changing up decor. My latest stack of books includes collections of ghost stories from other cultures, which should be fun. Our winery book club is reading Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier for September, a book referenced by so many of our recent club picks, it’s amazing. Were we all super spellbound by that book as teens, and now it’s creeping into our selections?

I’m also judging yet another poetry contest, this time for the SFPA. I judge contests once or twice a year, and I always wonder if people are sending their best work. I don’t send to many individual poetry contests, but I’ll tell you this—you probably have more of a shot than you think. You never know what an individual judge will like. And don’t take not winning personally. Who knows what any judge will like or dislike?

I’m also getting ready to get into poetry submission mode, as I haven’t been sending out poems much in the last few months. Too busy? Too discouraged? Feeling like poetry is maybe a waste of my time after twenty years and feeling like maybe I should switch genres? Maybe a little of each. September is a month of renewal, after all, with its shades of new pencils and new sweaters and of course, more new books. Housecleaning, closet cleanouts, and yes, taking stock of our writing and deciding where to spend our time and energy, with bouquets of dahlias and sunflowers around the house and pumpkin apple muffins in the kitchen.

Three siblings and Glenn – My brothers Chuck and Mike and me and Glenn

Parents Visit, Sibling Visit, and Getting Sick Under Stress

A few days into my visit with my parents, which I posted about last week, and after a somewhat stressful few weeks (heat, emergency dental work, a cancer scare, and family stuff)—I started to feel terrible, and sure enough, my immune system was down, and I’d caught another virus. Still, we got in one last visit to a farm—this time, Bob’s Corn and Pumpkin Farm in Snohomish—which was fun even if it was too early for pumpkins and even apples. Then the rest of the time the folks and I rested.

Then, the day the parents flew out, we had a surprise (but welcome) visit from my older brother, also from Cincinnati, who’s helping my little brother fix up his house for sale. Having three of us Hall siblings in the same place at the same time is practically like a meteor sighting it’s so rare, so I enjoyed the hang-out time, even if I was a bit under the weather the first few days of the visit. That’s the pic at the top of the post. I know I am lucky to have good relationships with my brothers, and I felt very lucky to be able to spend some time with them.

The NEA Has Decided to Terminate NEA Grants to Artist and Writers

Another piece of bad news (which has to be read through the filter of even worse news, of course) came through—people who applied for the NEA got the notice that their applications would not be read and NEA grants to writers and artists were cancelled. America just keeps getting greater, right?

I have never won an NEA grant—but it seems like another chip at the arts and academia and anyone that might not tow the party line from the Republicans. Writers and artists are notoriously not easy to control, and that’s not okay in Trump’s fascist government, as it hasn’t been with many dictators—Chairman Mao, Lenin, Hitler, Pol Pot. I had a friend post on Facebook that her lecture at an Air Force academy was cancelled after someone looked up her work online—although the people who invited her were apologetic, they were not in control. So, this government really is afraid of artists’ speech. Standing up to power has always been our job, but now there are more consequences. I posted on Facebook that Trump’s government is going to make all the talent with the means and energy to move leave the country, and someone commented that that was the point. Trump doesn’t want anyone here who dares to criticize.

Even though I’ve been fighting my health problems, I also feel like I’m fighting the anti-art forces as well, like a video game where you fight one boss, and six more appear. You know, writers and artists are already struggling to earn a living in a society that wants its art for free (or created by AI). Every little bit that’s taken away is a little bit of a chance for an artist to breathe easy, financially, for a little bit. I am struggling with how to earn a living as a writer and survive in a society that doesn’t value the sickly, or the disabled, and I am both. I mean, almost all of our writing heroes were sickly—not all, but a lot. I hope to keep writing, keep publishing, keep teaching and reading and mentoring. Maybe my body and my country throw up obstacles that sometimes feel insurmountable. As we head into a new season (though it’s still in the nineties here for some reason), I am looking for hope.

 

 

Glenn, me, my mom and dad, McMurtrey’s Flower Field

Parental Visits and End of Summer Flower Farm Visits

My mom and dad came out from Ohio to visit me and my little brother this week, so we decided to take them to some of our favorite local hangouts, including a couple of our favorite flower farms—McMurtrey Farm and JB Family Growers Lavender Farm. After a day of heavy (strange) August rain, during which we watched a Hitchcock marathon, we were able to get out and enjoy the flowers, sunshine, and fresh air (rain is good for that). It was very good to spend time with family in my favorite places. I know my parents are getting older, so I wanted to celebrate the limited time we get together.

Goldfinch talking

End of Summer Birds

At all these fields of flowers, the finches have been twittering around us in the air. The hummingbirds are dwindling in number but still busy at the flowers as well. I’ll miss their bright colors and songs when the winter comes back. Some small parts of late summer are my favorite parts. (Wasps, not so much, but the birds, absolutely, and the blueberries in my garden this year—especially sweet.)

Immature hummingbird taking a drink

This is a busy month—my older brother is coming out to visit the week after my folks leave—I am trying to look at my schedule for the fall, with readings and classes. After the health and dental dramas of the past weeks, I am ready to relax a bit, hopefully. I’m also hoping my next book gets picked up soon so I can start focusing on my next writing project, which might be quite a different creature than my previous works.

In the meantime, my friends, this seems like a rough and tumble world, but there are tiny moments of joy, beauty, kindness to be found. Sending you all hopes for tiny, good August joys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mt Rainier with Sunflowers

Full Moons, Insomnia, End of Summer Gardens in Bloom

The lovely full Sturgeon moon of the last two nights has been my companion during a stretch of insomnia. Doctors blame either the heat/MS or my hormones, or anxiety, but heck, it could be all three!

After a week that included a painful crown and TMJ, a doctor appointment that arrived with bad news for me (and another damn cancer scare), money woes, and of course the relentless terrible news cycle, I mean, if I could sleep like a baby, maybe that would be the abnormal thing.

On the plus side, the late gardens are blooming—two of these pics are from the local Lavender Farm, JB Family Growers, but the other photos are from McMurtrey Farm, which has opened for flower gathering until they become a pumpkin farm (although I’ve seen evidence of many pumpkins already!)

By the time I write my next blog post, my parents will already have been visiting for a few days. Hopefully we’ll have cooler weather and no wildfire smoke for that week.

Writing Questions in Middle Age

I’ve also been questioning things like—should I even still be writing poetry, or is it time I give up on it and try something else? Should I spend my time doing paying work instead? It feels sort of futile to write poetry in today’s political environment—rampantly anti-academic, anti-art, anti-peace-tolerance-environmental-safety and pro guns, business and everything evil and destructive. It feels like no one is listening, even with much bigger platforms than mine. Maybe, I wonder, I should take up filmmaking. Maybe I should leave America for the adventure of exploring another country, another country, which might be more friendly to the arts (which seems like almost any country at this point). I could take up working at the local pumpkin farm (though heavy lifting would be out). I could sell makeup again. This may be a normal part of getting older. I can’t tell as I’ve never been this old before! Maybe things will make more sense when I can get more than an hour or so of sleep a night. I’ll check in with you next week.

Zinnias from McMurtrey’s

Here’s to August, everyone: Wildfire smoke blowing in, Molars blowing up, and Garden Parties

It’s been an eventful week—I broke a back molar (that I think had a filling from my elementary school days) and had a very painful crown (and a threat of root canal). Glenn bought tickets to a garden party at Willows Lodge with a French theme and visited the newly opened McMurtrey’s farm to bring home cut flowers (it will be a pumpkin farm soon, but is opened for limited hours for cutting, and has a gorgeous dahlia garden that I myself could only dream of). Also, wildfire smoke from the Olympic Park fire has started blowing in, not too bad yet but a gray screen on the horizon.

I’ve also finished up the essay class I was taking and wanted you to see where the cats are right after the Zoom class ends. The baby goldfinches and other birds have been fluttering about, and so too the Anna’s hummingbirds. My folks are coming into town in a week or so, and we’re cleaning out the spare room in the basement, donating items that have been taking up space (goodbye, old television set!) and I’ll be going to the endocrinologist and the endodontist this week (hooray) to check my thyroid and my back tooth. These crowns are so expensive and not covered by my insurance, so every time it’s like an expensive piece of jewelry or a nice fridge. (Boo…hiss….) I hope a future America with universal health insurance also covers dental health…which might be wishful thinking, as this horrid government continues to tear down everything good (this week, PBS and NPR). In the meantime, I’m still thinking about how to earn an independent living as a disabled writer in this economy where everyone is facing layoffs and inflation. I’m not doing the Sealey Challenge this year because of my family visiting, and I’m also judging the SFPA poetry contest, so I’ll have plenty on my plate. But I do love seeing other people’s reads!

Sunflower among wildflowers

A Change in the Air

I know it’s only late July, but I can feel a change in the air already, as days get slowly shorter, and the garden, still in bloom, somehow seems to be nearing its end. We still have another whole month of summer, but the sunflowers coming up remind me not to wait or postpone, because change is already here. I spent most of the week sick, but am getting better, and it allowed me to get some reading done, and some thinking about the upcoming season: Fall.

Lavender field with summer wildflowers

My parents are coming out for a visit in two weeks, and after that, I’m going to a short residency to work on my manuscript, and maybe on some more essays. I’m trying to be more deliberate with the time that I spend and still put time aside for joy, relaxation, and all that stuff we type-A folks are bad at. If I don’t put time aside for rest, I won’t do it. I’ve been writing essays for five weeks, and enjoying it, and even sending some out. I’m waiting to hear back from publishers on my latest poetry manuscript, but I’m wondering if putting together a book of essays might be a smarter way to spend my time. It seems urgent to get voices out about disability, and while both books deal with that subject matter, the essays might be a better choice for a wider audience. We’ll see.

Goldfinch

Lavender Festivals and Melancholy

This weekend was the lavender festival at our local lavender garden (JB Family Growers Lavender Farm), and we went both days and had fun, and the weather blessedly cooperated (no rain, but also not crazy hot). I also noted that a lot of my friends and family members are experiencing a melancholy that isn’t specific to one bad thing, but rather a pervasive mood. Maybe that makes sense, politics and plagues and wars are bound to make a dent in our souls, and if they don’t, maybe something’s wrong with us. Walking at sunset in a field of lavender does something good to our nervous systems, or spending time picking blueberries or watching birds and going to the forest. We need to remind ourselves of the good things still in the world, of the possibilities. We need to give ourselves something to fight for.

Ha! If all you saw were my smiling photos, you wouldn’t think I had a thing to worry about, right? But you and I know better. We know the happy times are fleeting, and the hard times long, worries and sadness and even disabilities sometimes invisible. (I learned a lot this week researching an essay about Elizabeth Taylor’s myriad health problems related to the same genetic mutation that gave her double eyelashes, and how they related to her death and multiple hospitalizations.) We have to appreciate the good days and cope with the bad and stay open to what life is still teaching us. Anyway, if you are struggling right now, you are not alone, and the bad times don’t last forever (though they can feel that way). Another day when the sun rises, or the moon rises, and you feel alive and yourself again, inspired—I wish this for all of us.

Oregon Wildfire Sunset (From car)

New Nature Writing Conference in La Grande, Oregon: Ecology and Hope

Well, we drove through multiple mountain ranges and wildfire smoke both ways in the five-hour drive to and from La Grande, Oregon. Average temperature? 92°F—with red flag-level winds. I’d never seen how empty most of the states of Oregon and Washington are east of the Cascade mountains. Lots of twisty mountain passes, then miles of semiarid scrub, barely a McDonalds or Starbucks to be found. La Grande, almost at the very Eastern end of Oregon, is a little mountainside oasis—a drive-thru Starbucks, little Eastern Oregon University, where the low-res MFA program held its New Nature Writing Conference. We made it there the first day and we were pretty exhausted, the heat and smoke were hard on my MS symptoms, so I barely had any sleep before I had to get up, dress, teach a class on Solarpunk poetry, and then get ready for a reading and Q&A. Immediately after, we turned around and made the five-hour drive home, barely getting through the mountains before the dark settled in, and once again chased by wildfire smoke. The faculty, staff, and students at EOU were warm and friendly, and I felt very welcomed and thankful to be invited to speak—especially on nature and ecology, which are definitely subjects I’m very interested in, but man, physically this trip was hard. (Pics below include Glenn and I in the hot wind of the hotel parking lot, me with the director of the MFA program, and a pic from last week’s birthday celebration.)

One question I was asked during my class was “how do you keep your optimism with things like these wildfire evacuations?” (One of my friends texted me during the class she was evacuating her nearby small town.) How do I keep optimism? I wish I could remember how exactly I answered. There are always reasons to hope, however slight, and though I consider myself a realistic optimist—or an optimistic pessimist—it is hard, though imperative, to keep a view of the light, however dim. Hayao Miyazaki—along with Octavia Butler—sort of the godfather and godmother of Solarpunk—have visions of the future that, although dark, contain seeds (Parable of the Sower puns here) of how it is possible to have a more equitable, balanced world where technology, humanity, plants and animals co-exist in peace—usually after an apocalypse. So, maybe it’s around the corner any day now? During the class we discussed the Foxfire Books—rural surroundings mean someone in the class HAD heard of them.

We got home, showered, fell asleep exhausted, and today was mostly recovery (my body definitely showed me it was not happy with me with various symptoms) and unpacking and deciding if such a trip might be doable again. Next time, maybe not in the desert in the middle of July surrounded by wildfires?

Grateful for Home

Grateful to be home with my cats, my own bed, my own (allergy-safe) food, I considered how lucky we were to live in a place with such a moderate climate—today in Woodinville the high was 73°—and to live next to a beautiful lavender farm and have just enough land around my house to have a little garden. Pics here are from this evening, the last legs of the weekend’s Lavender Festival—so we mostly missed it but got there before closing to celebrate.

On the journey, I saw a LOT of closed hotels, motels, gas stations, and restaurants—and a LOT of wide-open nothing—no hospitals, no hotels, no restaurants at all. There were no Barnes & Nobles to drop into, no chain restaurants at all along the whole drive. The last place I’d seen with so many closed businesses was Akron on my visit to the University there almost twenty years ago, when the oatmeal-themed cookie shop was the only open store in the entire mall, and the hotel we stayed at was being run by one already-laid-off elderly employee and was being closed after we left. In Ohio, Tennessee, Kentucky—places I’d lived in—there was a lot of poverty, and where my relatives lived in Missouri as well—but I guess I had not really seen it here in the Pacific Northwest (beyond getting lost in a particularly meth-riddled row of closed gas stations and restaurants in Eugene OR on the drive from California back here on one of our moves). Class inequity was really brought home for me on this drive—along with viewing a lot of Trump signs, which you don’t see in and around my home much. Seems like the billionaires in our state could be doing more to help out the rest of the area, but it seems like that isn’t happening.  If the farms in Eastern WA and OR are growing our food, but have no restaurants to sell it to—or hospitals to go to if they get sick—or hell, even a rundown mall to see a movie and get a pizza—what is happening to those farmers and the farm workers? I even passed, strangely, a couple of wine tasting rooms tucked into the middle of what seemed to be wasteland, and a few vineyards on sunny hills that were otherwise barren. Woodinville’s wine country never looked so good to me. This is truly my happy place—away from the severe weather of the desert (or even the Midwest) most of the time, green year-round, cloudy enough to keep me safe with my sun allergy, blessed with good hospitals and libraries and bookstores and indie coffee shops and yes, chain restaurants.

At the lavender field on our anniversary

Celebrating: Anniversaries, Birthdays, and Best of the Net Nominations

This past week was Glenn and my 31st anniversary, pretty low-key, and today is Glenn’s birthday, which means two celebrations in one week. One thing I love about Glenn is for his birthday he made chocolate chip cookies that he took to the neighbors and the workers at the lavender farm. He just spreads joy

I am also happy to say I was nominated for a Best of the Net by Flare Magazine, for a poem “There’s Something Wrong with Me, I Said” which I posted about a few weeks ago there. Thank you, Flare Magazine!

Where I’ll Be Next Weekend, July 19: La Grande, Oregon’s Nature Writing Conference

Morning shot of hot air balloon

You guys know I don’t travel a ton, so note: I’ll be on the road next weekend to do a workshop on Solarpunk poetry and a reading of eco-poetry from my books at a Nature Writing Conference from Eastern Oregon University’s low-res MFA program in La Grande, Oregon. I have never been to Eastern Oregon and I look forward to meeting new people and seeing new desert landscapes. If you’re in the area, come out and see me—here’s the schedule! 

Essays – and Poetry?

I’ve mentioned last week that I’m taking an essay class and enjoying trying out a different genre. It exercises part of my writing skills that I’m not used to using, and it occurs to me that poets could benefit from trying other genres. I know poets who’ve written fiction and excelled at both. I’m not sure yet that I’m excelling, but I’m glad to be challenging myself. I want to take risks, be more vulnerable, and sometimes it helps to feel like a beginner again.

 

Goldfinch in wildflowers

A Tough Week: Disability Awareness Month, the Big Bill, Essay Writing

Did you know this is Disability Awareness Month? I’ve been spending a lot of time deep breathing and walking in the lavender field to take my mind off the stress of this week’s passing of the “Big Bill” that will end up taking away money from disabled people, hospitals, nursing homes, and of course, hungry children. I didn’t celebrate July 4th at all—no fireworks, except Glenn made a cake to share with neighbors, which feels appropriate. I guess after cutting SNAP we better up our donations to food banks too. Not feeling very fond of my country, and especially its leadership, right now.

Glenn and I in wildflowers in Woodinville

So, my anger and the urgency of the issues made me turn to an unfamiliar genre—essays, which will be read by more people and faster than poetry. So, I sent out two essays and one of them was already accepted (to be published in September). Luckily, the timing of my essay writing class could not be better—prompts and workshops every week and I’m already feeling more confident. I feel like the abled world does not understand the thin thread that disabled/chronically ill people walk between dying and not dying all the time—based on insurance, availability of drugs and doctors and hospitals, and oh yeah, a caretaker because you can’t do everything anymore.

This “big beautiful bill” puts everything on that thin line in jeopardy, and Republicans that signed it have signed the literal death warrant for disabled people, people in poverty, and some of those poor and disabled will be children. I hope the tax cut for billionaires will be worth it for them. I hope they all lose their seats in congress when people figure out what they’ve done. I cannot wait for Trump and the GOP to be out of power. It cannot happen soon enough—and literally, if it doesn’t, I will be forced to reconsider leaving the country. Did I mention Microsoft has laid off 15,000 in two months? (That’s where my insurance comes from, from Glenn’s job.) So that isn’t helping my anxiety at all. I am looking at viable options for both school and work out of the country at this point, just in case. A place with free health care and free school would be amazing. Why don’t we have those things in this country? Why don’t we start demanding them? One of the themes of this year’s Pride parade was “loud” and I feel like that applies to Disability Awareness Month as well. Keeping quiet will not protect us and it won’t protect others.

Sylvia with Cave Wall

New Poem in Cave Wall 

But I would be amiss if I didn’t say I was thankful to receive my contributor’s copy of Cave Wall, where I had a poem, “Self-Portrait as Wisteria on a May Night.” There were lots of friends in the TOC too. Here’s a sneak peek at the poem, but check out the whole issue too.

Hummingbird in fountain

Next Week: Anniversaries, Birthdays, and Guest Teaching in Eastern Oregon

So next week is eventful—Glenn and my anniversary, Glenn’s birthday, and me getting prepared for the trip to Eastern Oregon for a teaching/reading opportunity at the low-res MFA program’s New Nature Writing Conference. I’ve never been and I’m looking forward to meeting the people and the students and seeing what Eastern Oregon looks like. I’m just trying to juggle a lot right now, plus the stresses mentioned at the beginning of this post. Thank goodness for hummingbirds and gardening and writing. I hope you are all taking good care of yourselves—and check this space for more info on essays soon!