Home Again Home Again

I’m home–where the heart is, where Rich certainly is, and all my underwear and earrings. Where I have an opinion about every little thing. The red impatiens are still blooming! And, fuck, looks like the skunks are back. What a comfy writing space. And what funky kitchen cabinets…”somebody” should really replace them.
I had two weeks as the artist in residence at Agate Fossil Beds National Monument in Nebraska. Amazing fun, of the Zen writing sort. Golden sunrise. Hail storm. Giant rainbow. Whisk you off to Oz storm clouds. Each day pretty much my own. Wake up, get coffee, sit in the kitchen alcove and look out…out out out…prairie, some soft buttes and bluffs. Wonder about what 20 million years means. Think about horses the size of cats and mammoth fossils. Drive three hours round trip to eat in a cafe and look at Native American beadwork. Drive two hours round trip to the excitement of Walmart.
Dinner party with Japanese food and rangers. Be even more impressed by park rangers–their dedication to science, ecology, community, and learning. Spend a rainy day with a herbarium of prairie grasses. Read about Native American views on fossils. Read about Laura Ingalls Wilder and all the lies that lured settlers to a place where there has never been enough water. Think about John Wesley Powell warning about this, and how the government continued to lie.
Walk. Stop. Feel everything swirl around me. Micromanage my loneliness and homesickness. Listen to the resident ghost in house 1 bang about. Enjoy being able to do laundry. Hang out with the kids living in the trailer across the “street.” Stand stunned as a cattle drive comes through.
Teach 70 kids writing and suminagahi on “weather day” field trip. Watch presentations on clouds made of ever fluffy cotton balls. Look at their faces and imagine them as grown-ups. Do a youtube interview. Write twenty-two poems and like all of them. Fail to meditate daily or to get more than forty-five minutes of mild exercise a day. Neglect to work on a novel. Talk to myself in the car and worry about everything I’m worried about. Pray. Fight with the rental car agency. Watch all of the new “Dynasty.”
Be unembarrassed by who I am because the prairie inspires that.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized by Miriam Sagan. Bookmark the permalink.

About Miriam Sagan

I'm blogging about poetry, land art, haiku, women artists, road trips, and Baba Yaga at Miriam's Well (https://miriamswell.wordpress.com). The well is ALWAYS looking to publish poetry on our themes, sudden fiction, and guest bloggers and musers.

2 thoughts on “Home Again Home Again

  1. Miriam — This captures exactly what I had experience with my artist-in-residency program in the Everglades…where I first discovered your works thanks to a book you left behind in one of the end tables in the artist’s cabin. Good for YOU!

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