#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Wild Iris in the Wetlands at the Morning Brook, Charles River

RIP, Fudgy

Up early to tweak a poem, send it off. Frank gets me coffee. He’s out the door, and then I am as well. Into the yard, to the river, to the heron squawking and roosting. In the wetlands, the last of the blue flag wild irises in bloom. Muddy brook. Birdsong and mosquitos. Then I swim before poetry workshop. My poem is so rough. But I will get it revised. I have a client in the early afternoon and it’s a powerful session. It’s my mother’s birthday. I think of her all day. And work on my AWP Panel proposal. Such a fussy process. I get it all uploaded, organized and press send. Glad it’s done. Back to the poems. We get sad news about Fudgy in his new home. He got an infection from one of his tail feathers coming in, and despite antibiotics and TLC, he did not survive. Poor Fudgy. We hoped that sending him away from the neighbor’s dog would save him; really, he died from the effects of the original attack. Growing back all those feathers was a risky business. It’s futile to imagine he would have survived if he’d stayed. It’s tough news. He was a good rooster, a good companion, and will be missed.

As I work on my ancestry and poetry project, I am finding, in online resources, some real gems, like this Athol Daily News article from 1938 about my mother’s eleventy birthday party. Happy happy birthday, Mom. I miss you.

Happy Birthday Mom, source: Athol Daily News, 1938