February Delights

Even a short month can hold delight in every day. That is, if you seek it out. Writing "Today's delights" at the top of a dedicated space on the journal page is a bit like picking up a fresh piece of stationery, getting a nice pen, and writing "Dear Person I Care About" at the top of the paper. (Sidebar: This is a thing people do still actually do, and sending or receiving a letter definitely counts as a delight.)

That is to say, once you've started and you've put it down in writing, that blank spot waits for you to fill it with something.

Early this month I finished reading the delightful book Things to Look Forward To: 52 Large and Small Joys for Today and Every Day, written and illustrated by Sophie Blackall. The inspiration for the book came out of the earliest days of the COVID era (which we're still in, by the way, along with all the other overlapping eras that create a deep need for small delights in our days). She suggests writing our own lists of 52 things to look forward to, or things that bring us joy (or delight). That's one per week, and surely you can manage to find delight at least once a week.

I build a list of far more than 52 things every month, a few at a time. Some delights definitely come up again and again. I "reappreciate" coffee and good food and chocolate again and again, flowers and trees, sunshine and seasons, birds and mosses, hugs and belly laughs, my body reaching up in yoga, our home of four years and the way we've made it more ours, changing weather, shifting seasons, and the night sky. All right there, gifting me with fresh delight every time I pay attention.

February delights:

1. Good progress on a new jigsaw puzzle
2. Ordering a tin of Cougar Gold cheese as a gift for family who work for the federal government
3. The spinning windcatcher in our front yard rotating fast, twinkling in the sun
4. Snow on the ground when I got up
5. Mesmerizing flakes drifting down past evergreen boughs tipped with white
6. Satisfying ping of canning lids
7. Rich flavor of tayberry jam
8. Bright sweetness of raspberry jam
9. Winey depth of blackberry plum preserves
10. Sitting down after something like 7 or 8 hours of canning
11. Snow frosting everything
12. A storyteller's skill
13. Arriving at the headquarters exactly when two coworkers got there and all of us waving as we walked towards each other
14. Knitting in a meeting--tons of progress, beautiful colors
15. Two couples walking our neighborhood loop at different times, holding hands
16. One of these women saying to me as I left the housing wearing a big teal wrap, "I love that color!"
17. Walking fast in the cold on a downtown sidewalk feeling as if I were flying
18. One of the students bringing ginger cookies to improv class
19. Laughing
20. Waking to a snow-covered world
21. The sound of rain on the roof when I don't have to go out in it
22. Sweet and salty pickled cherries in yogurt with almonds
23. Blue sky peeking out
24. Lush flavors of mushroom soup I made
25. Birds twittering
26. Having all that counter space to do lots of cooking
27. How much light our living room holds on a cold, sunny day
28. Ducks paddling at the shore as waves rolled in
29. Mossy roof of a tiny sign kiosk with a jaunty fern growing out of it
30. Fresh zing of homemade raspberry and tayberry jams
31. Flurry of jays' cries high in the trees as I listened to a podcast interview with adrienne maree brown talking about connecting with the natural world
32. Curving up in Warrior 1
33. Buttery-good mushroom soup with oyster crackers
34. Hot bath
35. Walking with my sweetie
36. Moss-covered tree posed like a dancer
37. My sweetie describing how he'll fix the hummingbird feeder to make it nicer for them to land on with their tiny feet—such sweetness in that thought
38. The beautiful kitchen light fixture my sweetie made
39. Being inside warm and dry when cold rain is pouring down
40. My sweetie making a new bigger platform for Tiggs to perch on so he can watch kitchen action while not on the island or range hood!
41. Seeing Jupiter in the sky from my bedroom window, then Rigel and Sirius
42. Birds in the tree and on bushes doing their bird thing
43. Quiet sense of home stuff moving along while I work: washer and dryer humming and chugging
44. Printer putting out actual page, not weird tiny symbols and gobbledygook
45. Black-capped chickadee, perky on the suet cage
46. Finding the credit card, ID, and transit cards that were hiding in a backpack after a trip
47. Felting with wool for the first time, to fill a small couple of holes in a favorite blue wool jacket
48. A nearly full moon shining in the early morning darkness
49. Morning sun's rays shooting through tall pines
50. Riding my bike downhill
51. Full moon in the night sky
52. Venus shining over the neighborhood
53. Sun's warmth on a cold walk
54. Softness of Tiggs' fur
55. Holding my sweetie's hand on a walk
56. Spicy tingle of Bengal Spice tea
57. Seeing 3 other people on bikes as I rode to the office on a very cold morning
58. Driver who waited in the slip lane for me to bike past uphill, then waved and smiled when I waved at him
59. Softly falling snow
60. Energy of an in-person meeting
61. Little ferns growing out of the moss on the Dr. Seuss tree outside the living room window
62. Freshly baked bran muffins with melted butter
63. Speedy help from the data/GIS whiz on my work team
64. Finishing slides that are the right length
65. Sweet potato fries with garlic aioli
66. My body's curve as I reach to the sky in yoga
67. Warmth of Tiggs on my legs
68. Fresh homemade oatmeal cookies
69. Rain, gentle on the roof
70. Beautiful results of framing a big puzzle I started over a year ago and finally finished
71. Insistent train whistle in the distance
72. Hot fresh biscuits with butter and local honey
73. How great the kitchen counters look (new, after a big remodeling project)
74. Birds swooping joyously from fence to bush to feeder to tree and back around
75. Being outside in fresh air
76. Bright gold tall yolks of fresh local eggs
77. Satisfaction of pruned raspberry and tayberry bushes
78. Not needing my coat on a walk
79. Mossy sculptures in the woods composed of tree limbs and stumps and trunks
80. Feeling good about finishing a set of slides I need to present to a legislative committee
81. Belly laughs
82. Bright yellow leaf on the path in the nearby forested park
83. "Spread Kindness" on the display sign on the #21 bus
84. Creamy mushroom soup with lots of paprika, eaten fresh after making with oyster crackers
85. Frogs' chorus in the night
86. Crocuses poking up out of a mossy planting strip
87. The deep cushion of moss, not grass, in that planting strip
88. Night chorus of frogs bellowing for love
89. Tiggs playing with an old toy I got out that he hasn't seen in a while, pouncing again and again
90. Smell of wood smoke on a walk
91. Walking with my sweetie
92. Sitting in a coffee shop/bakery with the hum of people
93. Assyrian flavors in lemon labneh, roasted cauliflower steak, zoug
94. Tiny purple flower blooming by the sidewalk
95. Sleeping in, warm and cozy
96. Trying a new recipe that's a keeper
97. Sea salt dark chocolate truffle
98. Coziness
99. Rain on the roof, a steady drumming
100. Flowers blooming on the capitol campus
101. Unexpected scent of lily of the valley on a downtown street
102. Homemade tomato jam and Cougar Gold on crackers
103. Birds twittering on the suet cage
104. Tiggs making that chittering sound from his tower seat by the window where he can see those birds
105. Bird going for a ride on the wind spinner in the yard
106. Hearing a barred owl hooting in the rhododendron park midday
107. The way the blue paint I picked for the bedroom picks up colors in a painting and a framed jigsaw puzzle hanging on the wall
108. Perfect timing to roll through stop signs on uphill stops riding home in the dark (which, by the way, is legal in Washington thanks to Safety Stop legislation enacted in 2020)
109. Biking at night
110. Spring! Blue sky and sun! 60 degrees!
111. Trees budding
112. Flowers blooming
113. Calls of a jay
114. Tiggs fully stretched out in the sunshine (on my puzzle table)
115. Tiggs doing his "roll and scroll" on the living room rug, tipping his head back to look at us, beaming happiness and chirping/talking
116. Glorious warmth of the sun!
117. Flowers blooming in so many places
118. The way the rust orange of a thrift store jacket went perfectly with a top, scarf and hat I already owned
119. Taking a selfie with my mushroom "pinecone" stump friend just because
120. Beautiful glassy water in the bay, ducks floating here and there
121. Stars and planets in the night sky, and being able to see those overhead in our neighborhood

Putting this list together tells me even more about the themes and delightful resonance than I originally thought of when I started the post. Listing them chronologically lets me recognize the way I tune into seasonal shifts. 

And so many! I don't aim for a specific number per day since I can't force delight. It just comes, every single day, as long as I expect it.

Reading this list makes me feel delight-full. What's on your list?

Related Reading

• January Delights
• Riding Always Makes Me Happy. Yes, Always.
• Go Ahead. Make My Day.
• A Solstice Post: Gifts I Give Myself by Riding in the Winter
• 30 Days of Biking, Day 30: Happy!
• Walking in February: Of Woods and Water
• A Year of Poems: February
• Reruns: February Posts Worth Revisiting

A Year of Poems: June

"And what is so rare as a day in June?" Quick, name that poem!

Nope, I couldn't either. I knew the line but not the poet or the poem. Thanks to this month's research I now know it's by James Russell Lowell, from "The Vision of Sir Launfal." I'm sure you've read it, right? I'm the only one who hasn't.

"from The Vision of Sir Launfal" by James Russell Lowell

No matter how barren the past may have been,
'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green;
We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;

If you want to read the entire "Vision", here's the Project Gutenberg copy of the whole book of Lowell's poems that includes it. I have to say this part is the most accessible in the work, although the two lines right before the famous line are worth sharing:

No price is set on the lavish summer;June may be had by the poorest comer.

As with poetry about May, a lot of June poems are full of flowers and floweriness. I chose to skip most of those. June is a changeable month, with thunder and rain as well as roses and sunshine. 

I've chosen a few lines to share here to tempt you into following the links to the full poems. 
"After Many Springs" by Langston Hughes
Now,In June,When the night is a vast softnessFilled with blue stars,
"Wildflower" by Stanley Plumly
It is June, wildflowers on the table.They are fresh an hour ago, like sliced lemons,with the whole day ahead of them.
"June Thunder" by Louis MacNeice
The Junes were free and full, driving through tinyRoads, the mudguards brushing the cowparsley,Through fields of mustard and under boldly embattledMays and chestnuts
"June Rain" by Richard Aldington
Hot, a griffin's mouth of flame,The sun rasped with his golden tongueThe city streets, till men and walls shrivelled;The dusty air stagnated.
"June Wind" by Wendell Berry (presented in its entirety here)
Light and wind are running
over the headed grassas though the hill hadmelted and now flowed.
"June 21" by Robert Beverley RayNow it is completely summer.
The hot windy days, haze and white skies,Have given way to something cooler,
"On June Blossoming in June" by Karen An-Hwei Leein glowing strokes of  late June lightfringed by the noise of peninsula traffic on the harbor            laced by grease and silt from the machinery of  life—the sea isn’t far away though only gulls could spy it from here—
"What Is June Anyway?" by David BudbillAfter three weeks of hot weather and drought,        we've had a week of cold and rain,just the way it ought to be here in the north,        in June, a fire going in the woodstove
"Twenty-first of June" by Elton Glaser
Air that blisters in the sun;Already I can feelThe sweat
Slide down the face of summer andPool in the steamy streets.
"In the Moment" by Billy CollinsIt was a day in June, all lawn and sky,the kind that gives you no choicebut to unbutton your shirtand sit outside in a rough wooden chair.
"From a Country Overlooked" by Tom HennenThere are no creatures you cannot love.A frog calling at GodFrom the moon-filled ditchAs you stand on the country road in the June night.The sound is enough to make the stars weepWith happiness.

A Year of Poems

• A Year of Poems: January
• A Year of Poems: February
• A Year of Poems: March 
• A Year of Poems: April
• A Year of Poems: May

A Year of Poems: May

If April is the cruellest month, May is sunshine and spring, hope and flowers, and quite often the subject of a poet's celebratory observations. 

Here's my problem with poems about May: They're so often sappy. Flowers and birds in rhyming couplets. Don't get me wrong, I love flowers and birds and I'm not against the occasional rhyming couplet but it gets repetitious. I skipped over a lot of May poems that were a little too hop-te-skippety for my taste. And so, so many are named "May". So many. 

You're getting some birds and flowers and spring. I also had to include  "May 1968" by Sharon Olds, which isn't about the month at all but about events in May, and "May 1972" by James Schuyler, which is as timely now as it was when he wrote it.

"May and the Poets" by James Henry Leigh Hunt

May's in all the Italian books:—
She has old and modern nooks,
Where she sleeps with nymphs and elves,
In happy places they call shelves,

"May Day" by Sara Teasdale

For how can I be sure
  I shall see again
The world on the first of May
  Shining after the rain?

"In the Month of May" by Robert Bly

In the month of May when all leaves open,
I see when I walk how well all things
lean on each other, how the bees work,
the fish make their living the first day.
Monarchs fly high; then I understand
I love you with what in me is unfinished.

"May" by Jonathan Galassi

Ivy from last summer clogs the pool,
brewing a loamy, wormy, tea-leaf mulch
soft to the touch

and rank with interface of rut and rot.
The month after the month they say is cruel
is and is not.

"May Day" by Tess Taylor

white lilacs curdle in pre-summer heat.
The parade I barely noticed was beginning
is already halfway down the street.

"May to April" by Philip Frenau

Without your showers, I breed no flowers,
    Each field a barren waste appears;
If you don't weep, my blossoms sleep,
    They take such pleasures in your tears.

As your decay made room for May,
    So I must part with all that’s mine:
My balmy breeze, my blooming trees
    To torrid suns their sweets resign!

"Under the Willows [May is a pious fraud of the almanac]" by James Russell Lowell

May is a pious fraud of the almanac,
A ghastly parody of real Spring
Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind;
Or if, o'er-confident, she trust the date,
And, with her handful of anemones,
Herself as shivery, steal into the sun,
The season need but turn his hourglass round,

"Song on May Morning" by John Milton

Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,
  Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her
  The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow Cowslip, and the pale Primrose.

"The Month of May" by Wendy Cope

So carpe diem, gather buds, make hay.
The world is glorious. Compare, contrast
December with the merry month of May.
Now is the time, now is the time to play.

"For a Day in May" by Ruth Earnshaw

Shadow of white lilac
cast by May moonlight,
fettering me, dancing 
in the dew-cold grass
never let me go.

"To this May" by W.S. Merwin

it is spring once more with its birds
nesting in the holes in the walls
its morning finding the first time

"May" by Kerry Hardie

All hardship, hunger, treachery of winter forgotten.
This unfounded conviction: forgiveness, hope.

"May 1968" by Sharon Olds

When the Dean said we could not cross campus
until the students gave up the buildings,
we lay down, in the street,
we said the cops will enter this gate
over us.

"May 1972" by James Schuyler

Soft May mists are here again.
There, the war goes on.
Beside the privet the creamy
white tulips are extra
fine this year. There,
foliage curls blackened back:

A Year of Poems

• A Year of Poems: January
• A Year of Poems: February
• A Year of Poems: March 
• A Year of Poems: April

A Year of Poems: March

March comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb, right? Or is that April? Depends on where you live and what climate change is doing to move your local weather patterns. Although Shakespeare made the ides of March famous in "Julius Caesar" every month has its ides; per Merriam-Webster the ides was the 15th of March, May, July, or October (the four original 31-day months) or the 13th day of any other month in the ancient Roman calendar

March is also the month in which you may celebrate World Poetry Day on March 21, established by UNESCO in 1999.

Many of the poems I found were from the 19th century. I prefer contemporary poetry so I'm not including the ones with the galloping beat and the occasional forced rhyme. 

This first poem is about a very particular March, one unlike any other before it in my lifetime and one I hope not to find echoed in a future month.

"Things That Are Changed—March 2020" by Kimiko Hahn

Empty jar: I think to grow beansprouts and look into ordering seeds. Back ordered until May 1.

"March 1st" by Larry Schug

A radio weather caster warns his listeners
that tonight will be winter’s coldest,
though spring lurks like a shy suitor,
paralyzed with uncertainty,
shivering on the steps
outside his loved one’s door.

"Dear March—Come in—(1320)" by Emily Dickinson

I got your Letter, and the Birds—
The Maples never knew that you were coming—
I declare - how Red their Faces grew—

"We Like March" by Emily Dickinson

We like March, his shoes are purple.
He is new and high;
Makes he mud for Dog and Peddler,
Makes he forests dry.

"Not Ideas About the Thing But the Thing Itself" by Wallace Stevens

The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow . . .

"March Thought" by Hilda Conkling 
(this is the entire poem)

I am waiting for the flowers
To come back:
I am alone,
But I can wait for the birds.

"Mid-March" by Mary Ricketson

Surprise is the rule when spring makes promises
and promises are made to break.

"Snowbound, March" by Alice N. Persons

Tomorrow will bring the hard labor of plows,
of shoveling walks, snowblowing a path for the oil man,
the too-familiar weariness
of all that Sisyphean work

but for these few hours there is a kind of peace
in the mostly silent streets,

"March" by Linda Lee Konichek

A few bewildered blades of new grass
Poke through this wet cover, unsure
Of such a cold white-rain world. 

…still there is a softness in the morning air...

"Sprung" by Yash Seyedbagheri

now rich mud of March
pokes through
streams meandering with cheerful indolence
no need to slink straight through snow 

and charcoal nights are replaced
by the lush lavender
evening chill—but not coldness

"Revival" by Luci Shaw

March. I am beginning
to anticipate a thaw. Early mornings
the earth, old unbeliever, is still crusted with frost

"Late March" by Richard Schiffman

Again the trees remembered
to make leaves.
In the forest of their recollection
many birds returned
singing.

A Year of Poems

• A Year of Poems: January
• A Year of Poems: February