Goodwin & De La O – May 2018
Jeni De La O and Juliette Goodwin traded art and words. Juliette shared this image, entitled “Embryo Moon,” with Jeni:
In response, Jeni wrote this poem:
Here are Beautiful Things
A bottle of lilac petals shaken loose by the breeze,
collected by hands that smell like honey as the
sun sets in a green, green yard where bunnies live.
You are very intuitive and clever.
You are a human that really tries,
and so long as you remember they are an animal
(with behaviours particular to their species) and not a human,
you will probably get it right most of the time.
Preventing Milkshake from snoozing the day away
will definitely help her sleep at night.
Have you ever played a foraging game with her?
HB never tired of this game:
hide tiny pieces of carrot or pellets in various places.
Hide them under tables, under pillows, in corners–
but not under any appliances or near power outlets,
for obvious reasons.
Do not let her see where you are hiding them.
Put her in another room temporarily.
When you are done hiding the treats, release the bunny!
The first time around you will practically have to
point out where you hid each treat, but
by the third day she should be able to find them for herself.
Play fair and always put the treats in the same places.
HB loved bonking the couch pillows best of all.
In time, you can increase the difficulty
by hiding one or two of the treats under a plastic cup. –Honey-bunny, Australia
and
fresh young dandelions moments before blooming,
before spread and pluck, before knowing and
heat set into the dew.
First, your children should place some crocks
at the base of their plant pot.
Then, they need to half-fill the pot with soil or compost.
Help them to dig up a dandelion.
They must get most of the long taproot up with it,
without which it will quickly die.
Help your children to plant it in the pot;
firm it in with more soil or compost.
Let them water it well, then put it on a windowsill.
Water it well.
Look at it regularly.
They should see it grow buds,
then the flowers will open, then they’ll die,
and finally the seed clocks will form.
Their dandelion should grow quite a few flowers.
They can count how many it grows;
they can guess how many seeds it has produced. (hundreds)
NOTE: Many plants are known as weeds because, like children, they are successful at growing where more delicate species would die. Children are strong plants. In fact, the trauma of being dug up will actually stress the child and cause it to produce more children, rather than killing it.
Eventually it’s likely to die in the pot, just like the rest of us. -BBC Gardening
and
ink pressed into skin, what that brings
in twenty years, ninety years;
how it will stain bones nine hundred and
sixty nine years from now:
How wretchedly strong is your tea solution?
I would recommend that it be horribly strong,
way beyond the drinking flavor zone,
and that it be really hot, too.
How long was the bone in vinegar?
When an egg is left in vinegar for days,
the shell will dissolve, so with
a solution of vinegar of 5% or so,
the length of time would need to be extended,
allowing the bone to, perhaps,
absorb more moisture.
I do not know about the absorbency of bone,
but I would not leave it in the vinegar for days on end,
like the egg.
Have you done tests on similar materials? -Janel, Minnesota
and
wind blown grass, mumurating against
a sky of bursting blue, where gold breasted birds
swoop and ascend as one lover turns to another
signing I love you in the blowing grass, and
your eyes are fields of stars and rice, and
I taste the atoms and chemicals of the universe;
under her breath, forever.
* * * * *
Jeni shared this poem with Juliette:
Let me answer you
There, in that storm-sky second before lightning;
me standing under a tree, listening for your voice.
Too far between the raindrops, too far between
brilliant blinding flash and exposed cloud contours.
As mud forms by force of pelting rain and starts
swallowing me whole, it asks where are you?
Closing tighter orange eyelids, focusing: air in / air out,
the mud around my ankles sings: where are you?
Rolling lightning licks the sky and winking at
my sinking knees it pleads: tell me, where are you?
Before the mud plugs up my ears, in the distance
I can almost hear your voice slick against the storm.
The rain too loud, the mud too high, the lightning laughs and
I am moss, I am fern, I am ground, I am water, I am gone.
We are fish, we are wind, we are green and not those bodies.
I am gone and you are gone; and we are green, not these bodies.
In response, Juliette made this image, entitled “Wind Blower”:
