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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
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
I am excited to join in the Poetry Friday fun! This week’s roundup is hosted by Irene Latham. Please visit Irene’s website https://irenelatham.blogspot.com/ for her roundup of moon poems.
For additional information on Poetry Friday, please see Renee LaTulippe’s post.
Strawberry Moon
Rosy-cheeked
Strawberry Moon,
what cosmic cataclysm
wrought your craters
and left you
seeded and
stunned?
© 2023 Tracey Kiff-Judson
On Saturday, June 3, Connecticut was supposed to see the 2023 Strawberry Moon, but sadly, it was overcast when I when I peeked out at the nighttime sky. According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, the name “Strawberry Moon” was used by Native American Algonquian tribes to refer to the full moon in June, which is strawberry season in the northeastern US. The Almanac also says that the name does not refer to the color of the moon, but sometimes, when you catch the June full moon just after sunset, it shines like a sun-warmed strawberry.
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
Our last two dogs, Sugar and Bean, were nothing alike in their outward appearance. Sugar was a gorgeous, yellow lab mix who was obedient, loyal, and a fetcher among fetchers. Bean, judging from her appearance and behavior, may be a cross between a cheetah and a giraffe – unlikely combo, I know. She is naughty and fast, and her neck measures nearly half of her body length.
Although they differ in many ways, Sugar and Bean share one unusual characteristic: both pups smile. If you have never seen a dog sporting a “passive grin,” as the vet calls it, it can be alarming. I think it is an unusual trait, but we have been blessed with two smilers. Sugar is no longer with us, but if you meet Bean, be prepared for a wag of her tail and a flash of her pearly whites.
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
While going for a bike ride through the woods of CT yesterday, the air was heavy with the smoke from forest fires in Canada.
“ What? Canada? Isn’t Canada cool, wet, and immune from forest fires of that magnitude ?” you ask.
Apparently not, at least not any more. [See this website from the Canadian government for details on current fire conditions in Canada.]
To complicate matters, as forests are destroyed, those trees are no longer available to pull carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, potentially speeding climate change. [See this article reporting on Boston University research.]
What can the average Josephine do to help slow climate change? This site lists several actions to help reduce our energy consumption, such as:
- Whenever feasible, use mass transit, ride a bike, or drive an electric vehicle for transportation (though there is debate over whether electric vehicles offer the benefit hoped).
- Switch to renewable energy sources (e.g., solar, wind) whenever possible.
- Ensure that our homes are well-insulated.
- When replacing appliances, select those with high energy efficiency ratings.
- Support local businesses that use sustainable business practices.
- I would add that citizens can speak out and ask their local governments to adopt sustainability initiatives. In CT, an organization, called
Sustainable CT, tracks each town’s voluntary efforts toward becoming a more sustainable community. Other states and cities have similar organizations.
What can the average Josephine do to help slow climate change?
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- Written by: Tracey Kiff-Judson
- Category: Blog
When you mention a Highlights retreat, everyone stops to listen. In Boyd’s Mill, PA, a magical place hides in the woods. If you visit, you will discover: acres of trees parted by hiking trails, a bubbling brook, cozy cabins, barns, libraries, locally sourced meals, fellow artists, peace.
In April, 2023, I traveled to this place. Note to travelers: beware of the speed trap in NY, 5.8 miles prior to Boyd’s Mills. Harrumph. I attended a children’s poetry retreat instructed by Irene Latham and Charles Waters. Charles and Irene set the tone for supportive, thoughtful discussions on writing, poetry, and children’s literature.
Being rather shy, I anticipated sitting at a lunch table by myself, listening more than speaking, and quickly retreating to my cabin at night, but this place, these people would have none of that.
My days were filled with lively instruction and discussions, renowned guest speakers, hot meals with a new of group people that felt like old friends, a campfire with banjo playing, thank you, Dean, and nights of sound sleep with extra quilts on my bed.
After the learning, laughter, and admittedly a few tears, I left brimming with purpose. Cautiously driving 29 MPH through Tusten, NY, I made my way home believing that people who write poetry for children are the kindest people in the world, and that Highlights brings out the best in people.