BLUE LOOM

BLUE LOOM

The sky dreams of robin’s eggs

and the dragonfly has to make a decision 

whether or not to trust the pond, or the sky.

He threads the mirror of the sky

And weaves it with its namesake, the pond
stitching all that blueness together

into a tapestry of light.

5/20/20

AVS freewrites YOUR HEART IS A DRUM, CATCH & RELEASE

YOUR HEART IS A DRUM

Your heart is a drum 

beating in the sky of self.
It wants to find the place 

where thunder sleeps with the clouds, 

where lightning is an idea of its time, 

where we gather our thoughts 

and dream of the night stars.

CATCH & RELEASE 

Catch and release of the day
When you write a poem it’s like a river, 

it’s like fishing. First you approach the pond, 

and then you cast your line into the water. 

You chase those concentric ripples 

to the opposite shores and when you get a nipple, 

you really in your line, hook that fish, 

reel it in, and bring it to shore. 

Then, you let it go.

Blue-eyed grass superbloom 2010 (photo)

First day of spring. Blue-eyed-grass superbloom 2010, Alexander Valley, Highway 128 at Soda Rock Lane. Some of the blue-eyed-grass (really a diminutive type of simple iris) were not only indigo, but violet, pink, and a few were white. Every year I’ve been stopping at that meadow across from the campground, and it's never bloomed like that again since. I wonder if it'll put on a spectacular show this year? And who will be there to witness it? I have been teaching poetry to kids at Alexander Valley School every spring for nearly 30 years. But maybe not this year. Visiting the valley, as the poet in residence for two weeks—an integral part of my annual ritual, is interrupted by the arrival of the coronavirus. And I wonder if the wildflowers of Pine Flat Ridge have recovered from the Kincade Fire. Are they out in force? Masses of superblooms, and  no one to witness the lupines and blue-eyed-grass talking to pieces of the fallen sky. And bybthe way things are going, as we all shelter in place, we may be lucky enough to escape with our lives.

Free Morning off

Good grief, I have a rare morning off and I hardly know what to do with myself. That feeling of guilt, I must be forgetting something. Right? Believe it or not, the hardest part when I'm doing these poetry residencies, is eating. If it wasn't for Peggy Maddock, my host, feeding me, I wouldn't eat at all! I get that keyed up. Gonna take a much-needed shower, stop by school to do evaluations, then a drive up to Pine Flat, and Modini Preserve to take pix, then back to AVS to do kid reading this evening... Evaluations, student poetry release forms, and poetic licenses have been passed out. One class turned them in early. I’ll collect the rest tonight, and send them into CPITS, and then I’m done. These last fiddlybits can consume a lot of time. Eh. it's a Catholic guilt hangover...You know, never done? I'm off, then, into the wind.

Soda Rock Lane (photo)

Yesterday we had sunshine and blue skies. Not so much today. Massive stormfront, and rain. Maybe even snow. I teach poetry to Alexander Valley School kids every May, and I stay with a former teacher. I  ran off 100 copies of a  kid poetry anthology on a cranky copy machine that needed constant reassurance every time it overheated. This is a view from Soda Rock Lane very near artist Richard DIebenkorn's place. The studio barn has been quiet and shuttered for a long time, but the northern light waits at the ready for the artist to resume, and the wild birds still come and sit on the fence as if in waiting.

Deadlines

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet: Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes.

After two action-packed weeks of teaching at Alexander Valley School, and creating a 72-page 8x10 kid poetry and art book, with a grand finale/ reading (usually it's earlier in the year) for Open House, I'm knackered.

Then I submitted some kid poems for publication, and read 260 kid poems from across the state of CA as a CPITS field editor, I'm reeling and gritty-eyed.

Woke at 4 AM....thinking OMG! I gotta work. Deadlines. Deadlines. Then I realized it was over. Next? So, I edited a backlog of photos from the Las Vegas Games.

Too bad I'm not going to Costa Mesa Games, Neil had a fallout while I was gone. I'm now the enemy. Threats of eviction...again. Happens in the Spring. This time I'll not let it get to me. Nose to the grindstone, begin dismantling the house. Purge. Another deadline.

Sob it Ted

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet: Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes.

Sob it Ted. LOL. I typed the word 'submitted' on my iPad and got Sob it Ted. It was so funny. I left it. Stet. I forgot what I was going to write. Who is Ted? Maybe I should have said, "Sob it, Ted." Nothing like predictive typing to create surreal posts.

Mark Adler said: William S. Burroughs wrote your software?

I was going to say that I managed to submit 5 kid poems to the CPITS anthology today, and am waiting for a teacher to send me student release forms. 

 Only thing is that I don't have wifi in Nicasio, so we're hanging at Toby's Barn in Pt. Reyes. Wifi be gone very, very soon... they're closing now. Guess I won't be submitting those last three poems. Terrible back spasms have me lying down on a picnic bench trying to catch up with email, Facebook, etc. I am truly fatigued.

Had a bit of a back spasm twinge this AM. Makes it hard to move normally. It sure wants to throw a wrench in things. I just keep moving slowly through the position I was in, try to ignore it (don't overreact or jerk...recoil). Not so bad that I have to take Flexeril. Yeah, my last resort, it makes me stupid as a fish. Even stupider than that...

Today I'm submitting student poems, and student release forms for the California Poets in the Schools statewide anthology. This has been one rollercoaster of a residency. No time for the wicked. Finally got it all in and done. Put it to bed, Ted.

Almost done. Almost.

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet: Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes.

I managed to print just enough books for each class and the school board before the copy machine gave up the ghost for good. I don't even have a final hard copy.

Here's hoping the copy guy can get the machine fixed before Open House at 6 pm. With or without the extra copies, the show must go on.... Our poetry reading begins at 6 PM. Taking a little downtime while I can. Almost done. Almost.

Well that's done. Successful reading all round. New Superintendent-Principal liked the poetry readings. We all went out to the secret AV bar behind the wine tasting room at the crossroads after Open House. Matt Reno was buying. But I was too tired to drink. Too tired to also drive back to Nicasio or Oakland, my back really hurts now. I needs must sleep.

All the book bits are done

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet: Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes.

All the book bits are done. Today we design our final pages for the book! My favorite part.

The drive up to AVS and back to Oakland after teaching all day got the best of me. My back's traumatized from five hours of sitting in the car and five hours of teaching. Tomorrow I will head back up the road to Alexander Valley around 11AM. I should avoid the traffic, which will make a huge difference.

We had to revise tomorrow's schedule as there was no time for me to drive up and back and still have time to do final edit four classes worth of poems by 9 AM.

Some promising book covers (front, back, and intro pages) came in today. To do: covers, my intro, and final paste up, running it off, stapling it. Deadline is 5 PM Thursday. Will I make it?

Not reading any Facebook until my AVS poetry book is put to bed, printed, collated, bound, and we've had our poetry readings on Thursday night at Open House. Nose to the grindstone. Someone please send virtual wine and chocolate. Maybe flowers too. (My Facebook peeps obliged.) A teacher gave me a piece of chocolate and I drooled on a kid's final poetry page.... urg. Glad it wasn't wine. I don't get out much.

I finished the final edits on one class last night, and did part of another, then fell asleep on top of the pile of student journals. Luckily I have a few hours gracetime in the morning before it begins again. Home stretch. Will finish up Julie's 4th Grade class in the AM. I text Shannon, saying I'm ready.

5/17: A last minute text from Shannon, saying that we're swapping classes, this throws a wrench in the schedule. Argh! I'm only half way through Colleen's class, an hour to go before I need to leave. Will I make it? I drive 80 miles up 101 at nearly 80 mph, and slide into the school parking lot with five minutes to spare. Can't believe I made it on time. I look like a startled deer or a cat on LSD.

Two classes have finished designing their poetry pages. They look great. Two more classes to go. Still need to do final edits on one class....I'm balking. It's a big one. Tired. Very tired. Home stretch. 

All the book bits are done, I ran off a dozen prototypes, I will do one last read for typos in the AM, then print it! Kid poetry reading 6 to 7 PM. We're gonna make the deadline.

Roving artist epic fail

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet: Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes.

Dang, managed to get all my teaching gear, light table and drawing supplies, food, clothing packed in the car and I was on the road to Alexander Valley School by 7 AM, only to find when I arrived in the parking lot, I didn't pack my laptop. So I will need to reverse my steps, that's a whole lotta driving hours for today. Bummed. Last night, I was so tired, I fell asleep by 7 PM, otherwise, I would've had it packed. Grrr.

LIFE OF AN ITINERANT ARTIST

Last night I fell asleep on my student journals,
awoke at midnight, disoriented, where am I?
Who am I? Poetry imprinted on my cheeks.
Discombobulated, I forgot to pack my laptop,
or email those student poetry files to myself.
Could've saved myself some grief.
Clearly I was toast. Make that toasted.
Maybe even burnt toast. Ah, the life of a roving artist
was what I wanted? What was I thinking?
Careful what you wish for, but 9 to 5 doesn't suit.

5/15/17

On Editing Kid Poems

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet: Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes.

Centa Theresa asks: Do you do the editing? How do they know what to edit? I have a group of women in early recovery...the group changes and I usually have 25-30 women. I guess my aim is simplified; for them to contact their imagination and to feel unimpeded by rules around the writing process, so the emphasis is on expression...I do edit on the copy I type up but I can also maybe explain.

If you're doing minor copy editing (articles and particles, grammar, syntax), you don't need to worry about explaining things. That's what book editors do. Sometimes I might lift out a section, in which case, I'll use elipses to show that it's a fragment. Then there's the cut to the chase edit, where I might delete a floppy redundant fragment. I only do it when necessary.

It's a guided process, I ask them, is that the best verb to use, are you repeating your nouns? Sometimes I'll say, do you need that line? I emphasize that first write is first draft/notes. 

First typed poem is still first draft. It's just easier to see the typos. Sometimes if a poem has great imagery, and comparisons, but is tied up in knots, I have the student explain the line. Then I say: write it like that!

Typing & formatting, correct the misspelled words, (minimal a's and the's); student read their typed poems aloud in class, and students edit them. Adult populations are less touchy about their writing being edited, than kids who will notice if you dropped a word, or put in the wrong word.....

In the teaching and writing process, students definitely say what they want. Warts and all. I say don't worry about spelling, punctuation or grammar. That comes later. Just get it down on paper.

Also, when something goes into print (a book), typos and errors are frowned upon, and can ultimately undermine the credibility of a project.

Editing usually not about fixing grammar, but correcting typos, pointing out wrong words (spelling). Sometimes it's about a flabby verb choice. My pet peeve is go, as in go to the store vs walked, ran, drove. So it's often about increasing vocabulary potential to say what you mean.

Ultimately the kids come to me with their editing choices. I will veto cutting a good line, I'll say, you gotta save this line, or maybe use it in another poem. Otherwise I tend to go along with their choices. We might shave off a word or two.

It's another step in the writing process, but it makes them stronger writers. I also ask classmates to suggest ideas. Peer editing. Kids have the choice to accept or reject suggestions. It's fun.

Claudia Siefer said: There is a scene in the movie , A QUIET PASSION, where Cynthia Nixon / Emily Dickenson chides her publisher about editing her poetry. 

 Yes, Emily was very clear on her punctuation and line breaks. Editor tried to force it into the (male) Victorian model of the day. But she also wavered, many versions of her poems, not all were the result of the editor. Also, she knew what she was doing—a lifetime of poetry, at the very center of her soul, where every word mattered. 

She rewrote and rewrote and rewrote. Not quite the same paradigm as shaping young writers' scrawled first drafts into typed copy for publication.

As a poet, I bring to the table my skills, line breaks, etc. I make suggestions to the kids but they ultimately make all the choices. If I see a flabby line fragment, I might delete it, at the third edit if it still doesn't work. But for the most part, I try and involve the students in every step of the editing process. 

I type up about ten kid poems from each session, then we workshop them. I make the changes on their final copies. They still have both versions: first typed draft, and the in-class edited poem. They'll also have a chance to edit their in-class edited poems one more time on the final copy. Sometimes they revert back to the original first draft, but it's rare.

A Day in the Life of a Teaching Poet

Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes

This past week I've been an artist in residence at Alexander Valley School. Sleeping on former teacher Peggy Maddock's window seat at night. Watching the stars spin their wheel in the sky between me and Mt. St. Helena.

My poetry teaching week in review: I'm up every day at 6:30 AM to read poems, comment, type; then I teach from 9 AM to 3 PM, then I read new kid poems, comment, type up work until midnight. Get up at 6:30 AM....repeat. Sleep deprived I am.

Saturday, ditto, as I'm preparing the student poems for final editing, I need to make individual files of all the typed poems, and comb journals for new work, or poems I've missed.

I was up at 8 AM, and worked on two classes journals to 3 PM; then again, from 5 to 8 PM, to read even more poems and pull them off Google Docs server to reformat on our pages.

I also do a slow, final read as I comb each journal for revised poems, and hidden gems. I make more comments, type more poems; plus I make a final file/page of corrected poems for each student, for laying out final pages for kids to edit on Monday, for book.

Ditto this pattern for the two upper grades on Sunday. It takes me a couple of hours per class to do final edits. I have a bit of a headstart as I have some of the Mother's Day poems they sent me via Google Docs already typed.

AVS set up an account for me yesterday at the end of the day. Suddenly I got something like 35 poems sent to me all at once. LOL, some were in 96 point type, curlicue fonts, other were multi-colored, a dyslexic's nightmare. Of course they're loaded with typos.

Monday will be student in-class final edits, poem title additions, and maybe some new poems for book...Then I'll fix Monday's edits & typos, reprint final layout pages for Tuesday morning and then each student will design their pages with art.

Some students will design front/back cover pages, and other book art. My intro page is always the last, always the hardest...but it always come together at the last minute.

Then I'll run off copies, collate, and staple book. And the copy machine will break down early and often. And everyone will be using it as final projects come together for Open House. It will be a zoo.

Then we will have four poetry readings for Open House on Thursday (every kid reads!!! so cool with parents in attendance— a captive audience).... Augh, will I make it? If I think about it, I'll freeze. One foot in front of the other.

I couldn't have done any of this residency without my gracious host, former AVS teacher Peggy Maddock who first brought me to Alexander Valley School way back in 1992. She feeds me (OK, so sone wine is involved), and I spend the week at her house. And many, many thanks to abfab First Grade teacher Shannon Giusso Hausmann, who spearheads the poetry project each year, of course. She showed me what is possible with first graders. Wow!

Paul Hardstone said: You should give extra credit for typed poems. Believe it or not, I did manage to get 3rd & 4th graders to each send me a Mother's Day poem via Google Docs, it's a whole lotta work to fix them as Google Docs is a bit buggy. AVS set up an account for me yesterday afternoon. I can't imagine the first & 2nd grader managing to do this.

But we did manage to incorporate technology into the project at the very end of the day Friday. Chuffed! It would've been more interesting if I had known that this was possible beforehand.

I found out by accident on Friday morning (at the end of the residency) that the kids could post their typed poems to me. They have cute little Chrome tablets. It took me three hours to access the poems and reformat them as Google Docs is so buggy. It sure works better under Chrome than an old version of Safari. Less spinning beachballs.

Wow, I just realized this is the first moment I've had a minute to reflect on what we've accomplished in a very short time. The kids are so sweet, and because I teach here every year, the momentum builds. Amazing school, amazing kids. Love my work.

Shannon said that we should go out for a glass of wine after Open House. I said I think I need an entire bottle for myself. It's so labor intensive. This is the first moment I've had to catch up on emails, and Facebook. 

There's no cellphone reception at AVS or at Peggy's, or at my cousin's, so that eliminates some distraction. No Facebook access at school. So, I literally haven't had time to go online. Sort of retro. These journal bits have been written on the fly when I have reception, and time to write.

These Alexander Valley School Poetry Journal notes were lifted from Facebook comments, my only link to the outside world, these days.

NEW LIGHT, MUSIC OF THE SUN (haiku)

NEW LIGHT

The giraffe’s neck stretches
all the way to the lonely sun
a rainbow garden of dreams.




MUSIC OF THE SUN

The sun shines like a guitar
on the delta of dreams and hope
while singing of the past.

Looons of sorts, 5 words, 7 words, 5 words . Kind of like haiku. Written in class at Alexander Valley School. I usually try to write in-class too, but this year, the schedule was so intense, I barely had time to keep ahead of myself, lesson-wise, no time to write. These were whiteboard demos.

Teaching poetry at Alexander Valley School

2.5 classes' worth of kid poetry journals read; 1.5 more to go. I'm flagging. Time for a Kahlúa smoothie. Then onto typing up final poems for all four classes, getting ready for the poetry book. Yep.

I have to change locale and/or jobs every 45 minutes or so, replete with treats, or I become a narcaleptic reader. The cookie didn't do it. My boat done cinq. Or maybe it's a raft, and that's the problem.

Well... deep subject....that went well, not only am I off the clock, I'm off the rez too. Note to self: maybe less Kahlúa next time. The instant coffee and cocoa powder was a great addition, it cut the sweetness. 

Will I be able to love my pillow tonight truly madly deeply? A nap is in order. Alexander Valley is, well, chardonnay valley. Every once and a while I get paid in wine.

One more class to go...then onto typing. Uh, saving the best for last. Will read them tomorrow AM. Done! A long day's worth of typing kid poems for their annual  anthology. Corrected proofs are pasted onto the back of their journals. 

They have one more chance to get another typed poem for the book tomorrow. I aim for three poems per child...Friday, art and book assembly. Monday Open House! I took a productivity powder this afternoon...quagmire of molasses...

The kids at Alexander Valley School are such great writers, and so fun to be around, it's all play. I've been teaching poetry there each spring for decades. In fact, one of my former AVS students, Lucy Carroll will be reading with Dana Gioia at The Shed May 19. So proud!

"Healdsburg High School sophomore Lucy Carroll will share the spotlight with internationally known literary figure Dana Gioia at Shed on Thursday, May 19 starting at 7 p.m. Gioia, California Poet Laureate and former Chairman of the National Endowment for the Arts, will talk about the transformative power of literature, and read from his works, including his new “99 Poems New and Selected.”

He will also introduce Lucy Carroll and Melissa Lozano, the winner of the county-wide Poetry Out Loud competition."  —Healdsburg Tribune

baby bluebirds (photos)

Today, a baby bluebird fell from his nest and landed at my feet. So much for picking raspberries for breakfast.

He wasn't quite ready to leave the nest. He still had on his baby down. He decided I was the cat’s pajamas. He's got his feet wrapped around my thumb as a security blanket. I was Mom for an hour while he snuggled in the curve of my neck—expecting me to feed him. Loud little bugger chirping in my ear.

He attempted a couple of rough flight attempts. Tough logistics. Smack! Into the side of the house. Ouch. He bounced like a ping-pong ball. And then he got stuck under an eave on the ground and turned into a feathered mouse. He couldn’t navigate the downed twigs. They were an insurmountable obstacle course. But his parents were so distraught, we had to do something. Besides, there were cats.

A ladder. A tall young man, young Will to the rescue, a solution—and the little beggar was sent packing back to his nest. Not that he wanted to go back inside once he had seen the wide world. But he needed to ripen a few more days along with his wiser siblings who knew a good thing when they saw it.

Any nest in a storm.

Hand as nest.

He still had his baby down. 

Ok, now feed me.

  

RIchard Diebenkorn's place, Soda Rock Lane (photos)

 

RIchard Diebenkorn's place, Soda Rock Lane, Alexander Valley. My friend Leah used to babysit for Richard Diebenkorn. Every photo I take of his house reveals something sweet and quaint. So I did a negative image. It seems more fitting. More ghostlike. I love the roiling trees, like gazing into a blue fire. Doesn't it look like Richard is standing on the porch.

Robert Lee Haycock said: Been there years ago after his passing to receive some of his work that the family was loaning to the museum. I believe it was his widow I worked with then, a charming woman, who gave us the run of the house so that we could admire RD's work hanging EVERYWHERE in EVERY available space. Quite an experience.

from a Facebook post, added 6/17

Poetry and Buried Treasure

Today, after teaching poetry to kids at Alexander Valley School, I trolled the Lytton Station Salvation Army refuse bins, I uncovering odd bits of treasure, I found an old 1985 audio tape, The Scotsman, signed by Alex Beaton. Not that I needed the tape. Who plays audio tapes anymore? I have the digital downloads of the album, but still I bought it for the music jacket.

It must date back to the days when the Caledonian Club Highland Games were held in in Santa Rosa, I said to no one in particular, feeling nostalgic for the past. Before his career took off, Alex hand-made those audio tapes, and slept in the back of his truck during the games to save money. A thrifty one, our Alex.

We saw Alex perform at the Las Vegas Games in 2011 before the freak accident that left him all but paralyzed. We didn't realize that would be the last time we'd see him sing. First the cancer, then this. Rotten luck. After 22 years, the SFCC Games left Santa Rosa for Pleasanton in 1994. I saw Alex perform many of the songs on that tape during the early 1980s. So I was holding a bit of the past in my hands.

The Lytton Station Salvation Army is the motherlode of all thrift stores. Those bins under the awnings really are the last call bins before the junk heads out to the dumps. One man's junk os another man's treasure. It's not for the faint of heart. We were a determined bunch, intent on a thorough search and rescue in the wake of other people's detritus. Trinkets of the dead. You never know what you'll find. The past, certainly.

As I rummaged, I realized I was being stalked by a bright, mousy-eyed lassie of about seven years of age. We talked over melted records (it was a hot day), old paintings, and broken toys. Then we discovered I had taught her poetry in a Kindergarten class at Alexander Valley School last year! Which for her, was the distant past. Clearly I was her prize find of the day. She was so excited to find her old poetry teacher scrounging with the best of them.

I didn't play the audio tape as I knew it would be a rough rendition of what it once was. But I hummed Skye Boat Song to Alex, as I drove down the road home to the Bay Area, thinking of the day's treasures—both old and new.

added and revised 7/24/2016


First draft (two fragments)

So chuffed, found an old audio tape, The Scotsman, signed by Alex Beaton at the Healdsburg Salvation Army. Must date back to when the Caledonian Club games were in Santa Rosa.

Today as I trolled the Salvation Army refuse (last call bins) uncovering odd treasure, I realized I was being stalked by a bright, mousy-eyed girl of about 6 or 7. We talked over melted records, and we discovered I taught her poetry in Kindergarten at Alexander Valley School!

Alexander Valley from Lytton Station Road, looking north toward Geyserville, photo

Alexander Valley from Lytton Station Road, looking north toward Geyserville I had forgotten my cameras but I had my MacBook! Yep this is a MacBook facecam photo. The camera you have on you is the one you’ve got.© Maureen Hurley

Drive by Shooting

Highway 128 © Maureen Hurley photo

When I travel to Bay Area schools to teach art & poetry, I spend a lot of time on the road, so I started a US Highway 101 drive-by photo shoot collection, but I also took pix on the backroads. This is on Highway 128 in Alexander Valley, by Jimtown Store, near the school.

Over the years, I've created my own digital virtual auto F-stop club. :-) My only rule: the car has to be moving. No pulling over to frame the shot. There's at least a 3-second lag between what I see as the photo, and when the camera records—because we're moving about a mile a minute. So I have to pre-guess as to when the best shot is—or, rather—will be. Knowing the road, and anticipating where the best shots will be, helps. Clean windows also helps. It keeps my mind well-honed and in racer shape—no soduku for me!

I am interested in the accidental distortions, blurring, color breaks, etc. I particularly like the painterly aspect of these digital shots. Shots into the light. Into shadow. Notice how the foreground is blurred and the sign has nearly disappeared because of the low shutter speed, yet the barn and vineyard are still in focus because I've used the landscape setting to increase a sharp long depth of field.

Highway 128 © Maureen Hurley photo

These photos are unretouched, other than cropping them. I shoot large and crop all my photos—if only to reduce the file size. I'm far too impatient to wait and frame photos with the zoom, it takes far too long, and you lose the picture. I'm interested in zooming in on that fleeting split-second when the eye sees something as art.

In fact, the digital camera is a poor substitute for what my eye really sees. It's always taking pictures. I'm definitely left-eyed when it comes to composition. Besides, I've not the luxury of time to zoom in on something.

A trick I learned while in Lima, Peru in the early 1980s, was to take photos without looking through my camera lens. When the army invaded the capital, with tanks and guns, I wanted to document what was happening, but I didn't want to be "disappeared" so I learned to shoot blind—sans viewfinder.

This was during the pre autofocus cameradays—so I had to guess F stop, depth of field and focus without raising the Pentax K-1000 to my face. My arm became an extension of my eye. I don't need to use the viewfinder.

Highway 128 © Maureen Hurley photo

My camera is an extension of myself. Another eye to render the world into form and light. One time I didn't have a camera on me, so I used my MacBook to capture a rainbow over Santa Rosa. There was a huge time lag between finger and shutter. Very accidental as to when and where the photo was taken. And very low resolution. So they are more like iPhone shots than anything else.

Highway 128 © Maureen Hurley I like the way this leans left.

I now use Nikon P-60s. I have two of them. Er, make that "I had…" At the end of one residency in April, a kindergartner gave me a great thigh hug for teaching her to make art—just as I was documenting their final art project—self portraits. And the LED cracked on the 2nd camera as I was carting toys in a drawing class at Alexander Valley school. Two dead cameras in two months. Ouch! The photo above was with my cheap nameless brand camera from China. It took amazing, if noisy, photos.

I can still use the Plan B Nikon via the viewfinder. But the other one has trouble focusing as the lens took a good hit on a cement floor. I am SO completely underwhelmed by the replacement Nikon L110. My first Coolpix L14 (7.1 MP) camera was far superior to this overinflated ego of a camera. Lack of saturation and inability to focus, for starters. But it was cheap. I mourn the loss of my cameras. Like missing a part of my eye.

Highway 128 © Maureen Hurley Despite the lack of light, it's in focus!

Visiting the old schoolhouse

I was up in Alexander Valley—pasting up the kids' poetry & art book for the past few weeks. Sonoma County is uber-glorious this spring. We got to visit the old ALexander Valley school house, where we held the third grade poetry reading. Katie Murphy took us inside the old rancho adobe, so tiny, and hiked up the hill to the grave of pioneer Cyrus Alexander—the Wetzel family graveyard with its old wrought-iron fence. The hills are covered with Mariposa lilies and pink owl's clover, we also saw a golden eagle sitting on her nest, and lots of tiny grape flowers. Can't wait for the end result! (Wetzel Vineyards). There were gnarled Russian apple trees—cuttings from Fort Ross ca 1830s— still producing after all these years. Truly a blessed spot.