Liz Ahl’s poetry is always beautifully crafted, but this collection in particular is a stunner. The strength of the collection lies in her ability to make even the most mundane aspects of New England life sparkle with a twist of humor or a quirky thought. I, like her, am from away. And I, like her, connect with the landscape and culture here in Northern New Hampshire. How perfect, then, to find a collection of poems explaining the “why” of my fascination with my new home.
I can’t recommend this book highly enough. Certainly a must-read for anyone who’s lived in or visited the White Mountains or Lakes Region.
So I think after yesterday’s feedback, we’ve ruled out Flickr as a water-clip host. I also did some digging and found tutorials on how to get better quality uploads to Vine and YouTube. In the process, I found out how to place text on the videos then get the edited version from my computer to my phone for upload to Vine.
I’m feeling the urge to share some of my recent explorations of waterways, but I’m wondering about the best way to share them. Which video solution do you like best?
Vine seems to have poor resolution (even though my original is fine, even on my big computer screen), but it plays in a fun continuous loop and is easy to turn the sound on/off:
YouTube gives the full view (not cropped square like Vine) but seems to have poor resolution too, and then you also get the “next video” and ad things popping up:
Flickr seems to have the best resolution, though still not great. Plus its playback window is tiny and can’t be customized. However if you’re my friend on Flickr, you can go to the site and download the video to see it crisp and clean.
Dr. Heald’s book is on a topic that needs more attention than it gets. It is an overview of the first inhabitants of New Hampshire, introducing new inhabitants of the state to the history behind many of its place names. While transitions between topics is a bit rough at times, the bibliography was extensive enough to facilitate my further exploration of any topics that ended too abruptly. Dr. Heald tried to make the book an even-sided look at Abenaki history by interviewing tribal leaders and seeking out artifacts, attempting to balance out European written accounts; but due to the oral nature of historical Abenaki society, the majority of Dr. Heald’s historical source material was inevitably written by those of European descent and thus skewed the “Indian Warfare” and “Indian Legends and Folklore” chapters toward the white point of view. Nevertheless, this book was an enlightening read that introduced me to the first people and first language of my new home state.
PRODUCTION NOTE: While the cover is beautiful and the photos inside are really interesting, this book needs some SERIOUS proofreading and vetting.
I left home on a journey today: a road trip to visit family in Michigan. I expected my usual travel-adrenaline, the thrill of away. Instead I found dread at crossing the bridge that spans the Connecticut River and signifies the end of New Hampshire. To distract myself, I listened to the journey of Simon Armitage on the car stereo, the narrator’s voice like thunder through the mist on the Pennine Way. Similarly in Vermont, I wound along hairpin curves in cloud so thick I could barely see the hood of my car. Armitage dodged bulls in the fields he crossed; I dodged a family of Canada Geese [a mated pair plus five yellow-green goslings] as they attempted to cross I-90. And like Armitage, I lost my way. But only once. And only because I trusted (rather than overruled) technology. I’m halfway there; tomorrow the reunion begins, and hopefully with it joy. But for now, for tonight, I’ll sleep covered by the same bank of grey that reaches across New York, across Vermont, and blankets my Meredith meadow.
subaru crawls through cloud,
lines and signs all but invisible—
My world turned green this week—a welcome change.
The winter’s white, while beautiful, had left
behind the brown of empty branches, mud
and rotten leaves. Two days ago, this green
enticed a woodchuck off his sunning-rock
to graze fresh grass behind my house. The deer
now come three times a day to fatten up
(their ribs are showing through their shedding coats).
I even saw a fox emerge to hunt
for rodents scurrying beneath the thatch
that’s pierced by fiddleheads and horsetails. Birch
and Quaking Aspen trees were first to leaf.
The other trees have buds about to break.
This green has sound as well as sight—at night
my wetland rings with courting frogs so loud
I hear their songs through walls and window glass.
But after half a year of silent nights,
this verdant lullaby is what I need.