Thank you for the mention. I too love peonies - though our dog, Merlin, broke the first bloom off in his eagerness to chase a ball - now waiting for the second attempt to blossom. Will be perusing the other links too. I love your writing.
I moved into my house in 2001. A peony bloomed in the yard that spring. I have replanted it at least five times, and I left it, neglected, in a plastic pot for some years. A couple years ago, I planted it in front and it’s blooming like crazy right now.
Sorry for the long link but it’s a New York Times gift link to Margaret Renkl’s latest essay about the book that changed her at age 18. It’s the same book that changed me at age 20. I bet you’ve already read it and if not, you are in for something special. Sharing it here with you as a reminder that writing changes lives in ways we’ll never see or know.
Oh, Asha. I love Margaret Renkl's writing, and yes, Dillard was a writer who changed me, too. For me, it was an earlier book of hers: Teaching a Stone to Talk. It was a collection of early essays, in particular "Living Like Weasels"
(https://public.wsu.edu/~hughesc/living_like_weasels.htm) It was the writing--I didn't really know a person could write like that!--but also the conclusion: "I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you." It was a bold idea for a young, young woman who had been obedient to much different kinds of things up to that point. I wanted to love Tinker Creek, but for some reason it was a book I never finished. It did not hold me the way her essays did. I so appreciate the chance your comment has given me to go back and revisit the weasel essay, which was one of those life-changing pieces for me. Thank you for that and the link.
And I'm glad you have one of those peonies, too. I might be wrong, but I think mine just appeared. I don't remember it from the first year or two in the house, and I didn't plant it. That seems unlikely, but I love it all the more for thinking it's a bit magical.
Home alone with the house quiet I treated myself to reading your poem out loud - a very different experience compared to reading within. I would love to wear that beautiful gown studded with crystals. The third stanza is so beautifully wrought... I love that someone else planted it but the joy belongs to you every May.
Oh thank you for saying so! My brain has been starved for great things to read and experience and engage with on the internet, and my attention was hijacked for a long time by Instagram etc (which did me no favors)... it's such a pleasure to find people's work I look forward to reading and a pleasure still to be able to read it in total silence! I especially like the prompts for conversation that you leave towards the end of your newsletter... they spark thought and dialog, something we all need more of these days.
Peonies for the win! We can't grow them but I adore them. It's fascinating to muse upon how you came to know someone online. Occasionally I can explain for certain, but usually it just happened... organically. I'm glad you found some poem peeps!
I saw what you did there with that organically. 😉 Pretty sure I found you through Kate at (the sadly now defunct) Oh Katie Joy! I think you were in her blogroll? What I love is when I see that people I know from different circles have a connection with each other. I'm sure it's not always the case, but I like to think I somehow had something to do with their connection.
Hello! This note is bringing the biggest smile to my face. The rabbit hole is SO deep! But the world is also so small: I grew up in Seattle and still think of myself as a Seattleite (even though I've lived in Oregon much longer now). I'm so glad you came by and left a note.
Rita, thank you. I'm the sort of person who hates...HATES...unopened emails. It's all well and good if I have 9,396 opened emails in my inbox, but the ones that leave little notification numbers behind. No thank you! So, I have held this in reserve. This and 32 other emails that I haven't had time to open until now. (My goodness, what's become of me!?) Four days. I think that's a new record. And then I see that I've unwittingly been a conduit to poetry. It's just perfect. Your peony, and your picture, and your poem are just PERFECT.
Oh my! My inbox would drive you mad! 😂 I have so many unread emails, and I never delete anything. (I'm so thankful for the Substack app, which keeps everyone's posts in one tidy place.) Thank you for reading--I can't keep up with all that I subscribe to, even though I would like to. I appreciate that you find value here and am glad for all the things you've pointed me to.
Rita this is so lovely and I identify with it so much: "All three writers fell into the soil of my reading garden without me going out and finding them and saying: That! That’s what I need to fill in that hole in the bed. And yet, how delighted I am to have found them growing there, and to have stopped and looked long enough to determine that they are definitely not weeds." I am having writers fall into the soil of my reading garden here on Substack daily--like you!--and it is a joy.
Peonies were my Mama’s second favorite, after lilacs. I have 3 bushes & revel in their sprouts & blooms!! Loved this post so much Rita. More to say but late, so I’ll end with- serendipity indeed- I Love Nelly Bryce!!! No idea how I found her but attended one of her live poetry zooms & what a delight!!! I wish I had hours upon weeks stretched out in front of me for just reading & writing!!
Thank you for the mention. I too love peonies - though our dog, Merlin, broke the first bloom off in his eagerness to chase a ball - now waiting for the second attempt to blossom. Will be perusing the other links too. I love your writing.
Thank you 😊 Good thing dogs are even more loveable than peonies!
I moved into my house in 2001. A peony bloomed in the yard that spring. I have replanted it at least five times, and I left it, neglected, in a plastic pot for some years. A couple years ago, I planted it in front and it’s blooming like crazy right now.
https://www.nytimes.com/2024/06/03/opinion/rereading-beloved-books.html?unlocked_article_code=1.w00.o6WH.FQmab9nbBoWv&smid=nytcore-ios-share&referringSource=articleShare&sgrp=c-cb
Sorry for the long link but it’s a New York Times gift link to Margaret Renkl’s latest essay about the book that changed her at age 18. It’s the same book that changed me at age 20. I bet you’ve already read it and if not, you are in for something special. Sharing it here with you as a reminder that writing changes lives in ways we’ll never see or know.
Oh, Asha. I love Margaret Renkl's writing, and yes, Dillard was a writer who changed me, too. For me, it was an earlier book of hers: Teaching a Stone to Talk. It was a collection of early essays, in particular "Living Like Weasels"
(https://public.wsu.edu/~hughesc/living_like_weasels.htm) It was the writing--I didn't really know a person could write like that!--but also the conclusion: "I think it would be well, and proper, and obedient, and pure, to grasp your one necessity and not let it go, to dangle from it limp wherever it takes you." It was a bold idea for a young, young woman who had been obedient to much different kinds of things up to that point. I wanted to love Tinker Creek, but for some reason it was a book I never finished. It did not hold me the way her essays did. I so appreciate the chance your comment has given me to go back and revisit the weasel essay, which was one of those life-changing pieces for me. Thank you for that and the link.
And I'm glad you have one of those peonies, too. I might be wrong, but I think mine just appeared. I don't remember it from the first year or two in the house, and I didn't plant it. That seems unlikely, but I love it all the more for thinking it's a bit magical.
Rita, only now, at 55, am I learning to let go of some of my obedience. 💙
Better late than never! 😊
Home alone with the house quiet I treated myself to reading your poem out loud - a very different experience compared to reading within. I would love to wear that beautiful gown studded with crystals. The third stanza is so beautifully wrought... I love that someone else planted it but the joy belongs to you every May.
Thank you so much for this, Diana. Don't all of us who write want a reader such as you?
Oh thank you for saying so! My brain has been starved for great things to read and experience and engage with on the internet, and my attention was hijacked for a long time by Instagram etc (which did me no favors)... it's such a pleasure to find people's work I look forward to reading and a pleasure still to be able to read it in total silence! I especially like the prompts for conversation that you leave towards the end of your newsletter... they spark thought and dialog, something we all need more of these days.
I so much prefer getting lost on Substack to getting lost in Instagram! I don't have time to read all I want to here, and there's always more to find.
Peonies for the win! We can't grow them but I adore them. It's fascinating to muse upon how you came to know someone online. Occasionally I can explain for certain, but usually it just happened... organically. I'm glad you found some poem peeps!
I saw what you did there with that organically. 😉 Pretty sure I found you through Kate at (the sadly now defunct) Oh Katie Joy! I think you were in her blogroll? What I love is when I see that people I know from different circles have a connection with each other. I'm sure it's not always the case, but I like to think I somehow had something to do with their connection.
Rita, so glad to have gone down the Substack rabbit hole of poem-ing. I found you via Elizabeth's poem about glassblowing and poem-writing.
Ah, the peonies! I live in the Seattle area and ours are photo worthy on the daily; totally worth writing a poem about.
I'm familiar with many of the folks' names you mentioned; happy to 'meet' several more.
Hello! This note is bringing the biggest smile to my face. The rabbit hole is SO deep! But the world is also so small: I grew up in Seattle and still think of myself as a Seattleite (even though I've lived in Oregon much longer now). I'm so glad you came by and left a note.
Rita, thank you. I'm the sort of person who hates...HATES...unopened emails. It's all well and good if I have 9,396 opened emails in my inbox, but the ones that leave little notification numbers behind. No thank you! So, I have held this in reserve. This and 32 other emails that I haven't had time to open until now. (My goodness, what's become of me!?) Four days. I think that's a new record. And then I see that I've unwittingly been a conduit to poetry. It's just perfect. Your peony, and your picture, and your poem are just PERFECT.
Oh my! My inbox would drive you mad! 😂 I have so many unread emails, and I never delete anything. (I'm so thankful for the Substack app, which keeps everyone's posts in one tidy place.) Thank you for reading--I can't keep up with all that I subscribe to, even though I would like to. I appreciate that you find value here and am glad for all the things you've pointed me to.
Rita this is so lovely and I identify with it so much: "All three writers fell into the soil of my reading garden without me going out and finding them and saying: That! That’s what I need to fill in that hole in the bed. And yet, how delighted I am to have found them growing there, and to have stopped and looked long enough to determine that they are definitely not weeds." I am having writers fall into the soil of my reading garden here on Substack daily--like you!--and it is a joy.
Peonies were my Mama’s second favorite, after lilacs. I have 3 bushes & revel in their sprouts & blooms!! Loved this post so much Rita. More to say but late, so I’ll end with- serendipity indeed- I Love Nelly Bryce!!! No idea how I found her but attended one of her live poetry zooms & what a delight!!! I wish I had hours upon weeks stretched out in front of me for just reading & writing!!
Looking forward to WITD with you next month!!