Books and Things
The weather is frighteningly wintry today. I have all intentions of leaving for home soon, and then hibernating with copious cups of tea until well...Saturday, because I have to work the weekend. Blah.
Books. I started using my Goodreads account again. I'd sort of forgotten about it until a week ago. I'm exploring YA and juvenile lit. of late: currently reading the first Spiderwick Chronicles book, and a YA book called Candyfloss on my to-read pile (mostly because there was a blurb from Philip Pullman on the back), also a book about a gingerbunny by Randell Jarrell (I had no idea he had authored so much--or any--children's book until a few months ago), as well as the Sherman Alexie YA novel that recently won a National Book Award. On the lookout for good YA reads.
I'm very slowly starting to write again. Actually I'm rewriting a short story currently. But...a start?
Today at work I also randomly ran into this guy who's house I went to for a vegan meet-up in...November? Maybe we'll get something together activism-wise. I think I miss being involved in "causes."
Last week I hit a deer on my way home from work. And it was all kinds of horrible. My airbags didn't go off, I wasn't hurt, and the deer ran off afterwards--though was was too shaky to tell how badly it might have been hurt. Nevertheless, sickening. Makes me hate cars, and the necessity of driving even more.
Traveling Through the Dark
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.
-William Stafford
Books. I started using my Goodreads account again. I'd sort of forgotten about it until a week ago. I'm exploring YA and juvenile lit. of late: currently reading the first Spiderwick Chronicles book, and a YA book called Candyfloss on my to-read pile (mostly because there was a blurb from Philip Pullman on the back), also a book about a gingerbunny by Randell Jarrell (I had no idea he had authored so much--or any--children's book until a few months ago), as well as the Sherman Alexie YA novel that recently won a National Book Award. On the lookout for good YA reads.
I'm very slowly starting to write again. Actually I'm rewriting a short story currently. But...a start?
Today at work I also randomly ran into this guy who's house I went to for a vegan meet-up in...November? Maybe we'll get something together activism-wise. I think I miss being involved in "causes."
Last week I hit a deer on my way home from work. And it was all kinds of horrible. My airbags didn't go off, I wasn't hurt, and the deer ran off afterwards--though was was too shaky to tell how badly it might have been hurt. Nevertheless, sickening. Makes me hate cars, and the necessity of driving even more.
Traveling Through the Dark
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.
-William Stafford