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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
A couple of weeks ago, my son and I were playing around with our phone cameras trying out various night settings. I think we captured the Milky Way in this picture because there were no clouds out that night.
The Rock Next Door to Mars
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Are you out there
‘tween the stars?
I’m here waving,
starlight saving,
on the rock next
door to Mars.
Photo and poem © Z. Judson and T. Kiff-Judson 2023
If you have an Android phone (not sure about Apple) and you download a camera extension app called “Expert RAW.” It has an “Astrophoto” setting that will allow you to take longer-exposure night pictures. We tried it with the August supermoon, but the moon was actually TOO bright and looked like the sun. Happy star gazing!
Please visit the amazing Amy Ludwig Vanderwater at The Poem Farm for more Poetry Friday excitement!
The answers to The Devil's in the Details challenge:
- Looking down into a stemmed glass
- Toothpaste tube
- Metallic bubble wrap
- Felt-tipped markers
- Rolling pin
- Coffee beans
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Brace yourself. The following content is a little disgusting. However, decomposers make the world go ‘round!
I am always amazed (and a little revolted) when I come upon this scenario after a rainfall. The roads are damp with yesterday’s rain and littered with the remnants of many slugs who had ill-fated encounters with car tires. Then out come the other slugs to explore the damage and have a bite to eat. I guess in nature, a slug’s job is to do the clean-up work, and they make no exceptions. They take their work gravely.
Cannibal Slug
After the rain,
rolled out flat as a rug,
mashed by a car,
lies a goopy, squashed slug.
Here comes his friend
to console and to hug.
Wait … she …
bites this poor dude
with her own slimy mug!
Who would have thought
she could be such a thug?
Chewing her friend,
ugh – a cannibal slug!
For some happier poetry, please visit Ramona, this week's gracious Poetry Friday host, at Pleasures From the Page.
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Poetry Friday has arrived again! This Friday, please visit Linda at TeacherDance for some poignant poetry posts.
My son brought this article to my attention. It discusses the hypothetical question of whether Japan would have surrendered in WWII without the US dropping atomic bombs.
The following image from the article struck me.
[US Air Force Photo, September 2, 1945]
It depicts a Japanese delegation onboard the USS Missouri in Tokyo Bay. They are there to participate in a formal WWII surrender ceremony. We know how WWII ends from US history books. We may even be able to intuit some of the emotions of the US Servicemen in this picture, but what if we also pause momentarily to consider this scenario from the Japanese point of view? Can we fathom the emotions of that stoic group of men?
I Surrender
I come to you in top hat, gloves, and starched collar.
I come to you with dignitaries, generals, and commanders.
I come to you in solemnity, humility, and defeat.
I will surrender.
I will sign your papers and submit to your photographs, but
I will not share with you my rage, my hopelessness, my pain.
Tracey Kiff-Judson, draft © 2023
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Poetry Friday! Please visit Molly at Nix the Comfort Zone and enjoy all of the Poetry Friday fun!
It’s that time of year!
When I ride my bike through the woods from mid-July through mid-August, I am fortunate to pass through clouds of fragrant perfume from this flowering bush. I think it may be called Summersweet or Sweet Pepperbush (Google Lens identifies it as clethra alnifolia). It smells wonderful, vaguely of Prell shampoo (for those of you who recall Prell from childhood!).
Summer Sweetness
Licorice, pepper,
gardenia and spice.
What is this flower?
It’s not Edelweiss.
Bumblebees drawn in
by scents that entice.
This is the bloom
that’s become my new vice.
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Happy Poetry Friday!
Please visit Tabetha at The Opposite of Indifference for more Poetry Friday goodness and a funny ending.
Last week, I was fortunate to spend a few days with a friend who I haven’t seen in many years. I love that there is always something to talk about with people that you knew growing up. There is so much shared history that you can converse with ease – even if you haven’t seen each other in decades.
Reconnecting
High School Concerns:
making the cut,
whether these jeans look weird,
the Chemistry test.
Today’s Concerns:
our children’s happiness,
whether this mole looks weird,
the Climate test.
Joyful Constants:
your smile crinkles,
shared memories,
the way you say, “This is delightful!”
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
One week ago, I was in my bedroom reading and enjoying the coolness of evening. My husband was working on a computer backup in the next room. I noticed our dog, Bean, barking in the backyard. I didn’t think much of it. She often finds a squirrel very upsetting, lets out a string of dog profanity, and then goes about her business.
This time, her cursing extended into a full-blown tirade. I heard my husband go outside and call her into the house. A few seconds later, the bedroom door opened, and my husband said, “Do you smell anything on Bean?”
I called her over, put my nose on her head, and inhaled deeply. The stench was so overwhelming that I felt woozy.
My husband said, “I think she might have found a skunk,” and pulled the bedroom door shut.
Bean and I stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment. We silently agreed that the best short-term solution was for me to ignore the problem. She went over to her dog bed and began the work of licking off the skunk spray. (In retrospect, letting her lick skunk spray was probably a horrible idea!) I resumed reading my book. This arrangement worked for approximately forty-five seconds, which coincidentally, is the exact amount of time it takes skunk smell to permeate every fiber of every fabric in a room.
I bolted out of the room and said, “We have to do something! I don’t have any tomato juice, but I can give her a bath in tomato sauce and canned tomatoes.”
My husband and I blinked at each other, our eyes now watering from the smell.
I said, “Maybe we should ask Google if there is a better solution.”
My husband scanned several articles and announced, “Says: tomato juice doesn’t work. We need hydrogen peroxide, baking soda, and dish soap.”
Yes! These are items that we always have on hand. I began rummaging through the closet looking for hydrogen peroxide.
Rubbing alcohol – too strong.
Mineral oil – too oily.
Witch Hazel (circa 1995) – why did I buy this?
Not one drop of peroxide.
Sigh. My husband drove off to the 24-hour drugstore in the next town. Bean and I stared at each other again. I gave her a long lecture that went, “No, no, no skunks. Skunks stink. Pee-ew. Now you stink. Pee-ew. No, no, no skunks.” Bean blinked. She licked her leg as if to say, “Look, I’m working on it.”
Thirty minutes later, with the house now smelling like it belonged to a family of skunks (how does the smell MULTIPLY?), we were armed with three small spray-bottles of hydrogen peroxide (‘cause apparently, “That’s all they had.”). I popped off the spray triggers and dumped the peroxide into a bowl with the required amounts of baking soda and dish soap.
I lathered Bean up and let her sit in the mixture for a minute while my husband removed the covering from her dog bed and stuffed it in the washer. After thoroughly rinsing and toweling down Bean, her stench had indeed decreased by, I would estimate, a solid 3%. Sigh.
The three of us gave up and went to bed stinky. The next morning, we were still stinky. One week later ... still stinky.
For this Poetry Friday, a handy recipe and a mini ode:
Skunk Stink Remover
- 1 quart of hydrogen peroxide
- ¼ c baking soda
- 1 t dish soap
Mix ingredients in a bowl. Pour over dog and scrub thoroughly. Rinse. Notice no difference. Wash dog with shampoo. Notice the smell of skunk paired with the smell of shampoo. Wash everything in the house that the dog has even stood near, including bed linens, curtains, and the clothes that you are wearing. Open every window in the house. Wait one week, maybe two. You should notice some improvement.
Mini Ode to a Skunk
I sense your presence all throughout the day.
Your fragrance flits upon the evening air.
I drift to sleep and dream about the way,
You dwell within my clothes, my home, my hair.
To get your Poetry Friday fix, visit Jan Godown Annino's blog BookSeedStudio for Jan's planted words, a dragonfly, and this week’s roundup!
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
I know that I have no right to feel upset because before I was born, I imagine that someone cut down trees to build our house, but today I lament as I listen to a succession of falling trees. I know that I have contributed to the pollution of the air and the contamination of water. The air hangs with smoke from distant wildfires and the global temperature may again soar to a new record high. I worry about the Swomee-Swans, the Brown Bar-ba-loots, and the Humming Fish. Where will they go, now that the air is not clean and the grass is not green?
Buzzzzzz, CRACK, Swish, THUMP
The Man watches from the road in his sunhat with his hands on his hips.
He smiles a satisfied smile.
Buzzzzzz, CRACK, swish, THUMP.
I approach and ask him how many trees he is cutting down.
He grins and says, “Thirty-two and some are pretty big!”
I say, “How sad. They must be very old.”
Buzzzzzz, CRACK, swish, THUMP.
We both stare into the decimated forest with hands on our hips.
As smoke from distant wildfires browns the air,
I wish for the Lorax to pop out of a stump.
Buzzzzzz, CRACK, swish, THUMP.
No Lorax.
Buzzzzzz, CRACK, swish, THUMP.
Please visit Margaret at Reflections on the Teche to see her ruby-red, delicious poem: Ode to Molly's Strawberry Jam and Poetry Friday poems from many friends.
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Last night at 9:30 PM, a friend texted and urged us to come see the fireflies on a trail near his house. We raced there to view the display. Thousands of tiny lights hovered above the darkened path. It was truly spectacular, like Christmas in July.
I tried to record the show on video, but my camera could only capture the closest lights, not the tunnel of flickering sparks fading to infinity. Maybe you can hear the twanging, bluegrass frog-band that accompanied the visual fireworks?
flashbulbs pop at dusk
scattered specks of light beckon
fireflies seek romance
Haiku and Video © 2023 Tracey Kiff-Judson
For more Poetry Friday fun and this week's roundup, head to Linda Mitchell’s fantastic blog: A Word Edgewise!
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Thank you to the always-supportive Marcie Flinchum Atkins for hosting this week’s Poetry Friday roundup. Please visit her blog to see her gorgeous nature photos and for more Poetry Friday poems.
Yesterday, I rode my bike earlier in the day than usual. A morning ride beats the afternoon mugginess, but also affords the opportunity to see morning critters. A baby Garter snake slithered off the side of the road when it heard the crunch of my tires. A chubby rabbit bolted across a field of grass. A tiny snapping turtle bit my sneaker when I tried to nudge it to the side of the road.
The day before, I saw three crayfish crossing the road near a stream. Why not stay in the water through the tunnel that goes under the road? Why climb up to the road and risk the vulnerability of crossing on pavement? I wonder.
I also saw these ghostly plants growing along the road. I don’t know what they are, and I couldn’t ask the question in a way that would get Google to tell me. Maybe some kind of fungus? Maybe you know them?
rising from gnarled leaves
surprising among earth tones
ghost of a lily