Is there a #phenology of language?

We know that there's some sort of bioregionalism to language. British English certainly isn't the same as American English. There are numerous indigenous languages, many of which are endangered. That's not quite what I'm thinking about here.

carved stone table at Open Book

Photo by J. Harrington

Languages change over time. Words come and go, some stay but change their meaning. As seasons change, and climate change modifies the seasons as we've known them, presumably language could change to reflect the world to which it relates. Robert Macfarlane has written Landmarks to capture much of the local vernacular of placewords in Britain. David Lukas' Language Making Nature is a forward-looking tool to enrich our relationship with nature by creating new words.

window display at open book

Photo by J. Harrington

All of this started burbling about in the back of my mind as I once again discovered how incorrect I've been with some of the stereotypes I've used to track the world. Until recently, much of my thoughts about Kansas were dominated by the book What's the Matter with Kansas? I also thought, more positively from time to time, about Wes Jackson's Land Institute in Salinas. Reading William Least Heat-Moon's PrairyErth added some depth but wasn't particularly transformative. Yesterday, I came across the Kansas Area Watershed Council's web site. They've been publishing a bioregional journal for about two decades. That certainly doesn't fit the impression I was left with after reading "What's the Matter..."

This has been prompted because I keep feeling as though Minnesota is missing some (undefined) key pieces of the puzzle to move ahead successfully with Governor Dayton's proposal for a water ethic. If we aren't as successful as we should be, I won't be surprised to read, in the not too distant future, someone's version of What's the Matter with Minnesota? It may present an erroneous stereotype, but how many will care enough to look behind any presumed indifference to protecting our most critical resource? We can't, and don't, all live upstream.

Words are Birds

By Francisco X. Alarcón

words

are birds

that arrive

with books

and spring

they

love

clouds

the wind

and trees

some words

are messengers

that come

from far away

from distant lands

for them

there are

no borders

only stars

moon and sun

some words

are familiar

like canaries

others are exotic

like the quetzal bird

some can stand

the cold

others migrate

with the sun

to the south

some words

die

caged—

they're difficult

to translate

and others

build nests

have chicks

warm them

feed them

teach them

how to fly

and one day

they go away

in flocks

the letters

on this page

are the prints

they leave

by the sea

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Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.

Art, Writers, Culture and Fairs, Oh My!

Today we're heading for the Northwoods Art and Book Festival in Hackensack, MN. I've been seeing more and more references to sustainable rural community economic development benefitting from a relationship with the arts, plus, it looks like fun. I went to the state fair once and still haven't developed a taste for "chocolate covered, deep-fried books on a stick," so it's up north for us. I'm going to be reading a few of my poems. Now that I'm toughened up by email rejection letters, I thought I'd test what in-person audience reaction does to or for my writing. UPDATE: One of my submissions was a Popular Choice winner. Sue Ready, Northwoods Arts Council's Poetry Chair, facilitated the poetry recognition event. (Thanks, Sue.) Here's a link to her blog posting on yesterdays event.
Ever Ready: Northwoods Art and Book Festival-Poetry Recognition Event.

mist-filled St. Croix River Valley

Photo by J. Harrington

Maybe the arts activists in the St. Croix River Valley could organize something like the Northwoods Festival, including a large emphasis of Minnesota and/or Valley authors to augment the existing Valley potters' tours. ArtReach St. Croix seems to be pretty much focused on the Hastings to Stillwater stretch, and the St. Croix Splash lists reading and book signings of individual authors. Something in the Taylors Falls / St Croix Falls vicinity that  also draws from the upper Valley might work. I hope we haven't reached the point where almost everyone in the general vicinity of the Twin Cities is reading just ebooks or on-line but I also realize that the St. Croix Valley is much closer to The Loft Literary Center at Open Book and to the Twin Cities Book Festival than Hackensack Minnesota is. I also remain frustrated by the reluctance of local bookstores to have a regional or Minnesota section for poetry. I continue to believe we have much literary talent to honor and celebrate locally and having an ongoing, aggregate focus on local authors and poets, in addition to the Annual Minnesota Book Awards, contributes to that. Joyce Sutphen, our poet laureate, tells us why it's important.

Bookmobile

by Joyce Sutphen 

I spend part of my childhood waiting
for the Sterns County Bookmobile.
When it comes to town, it makes a
U-turn in front of the grade school and
glides into its place under the elms.

It is a natural wonder of late
afternoon. I try to imagine Dante,
William Faulkner, and Emily Dickinson
traveling down a double lane highway
together, country-western on the radio.

Even when it arrives, I have to wait.
The librarian is busy, getting out
the inky pad and the lined cards.
I pace back and forth in the line,
hungry for the fresh bread of the page,

because I need something that will tell me
what I am; I want to catch a book,
clear as a one-way ticket, to Paris,
to London, to anywhere.  

********************************************
Thanks for visiting. Come again when you can.
Please be kind to each other while you can.

Winter reading

This past week, the National Book Award winners were announced. Two Minnesota authors were among the winners. Since the announcement, there has been some local discussion about My Minnesota's literary culture and philanthropic support for the arts in this part of the world sometimes referred to as "flyover country." Part of that discussion has focused on the Loft, which has been mentioned here before, and the long, cold winters, which have only been alluded to previously. Duluth is among My Minnesota's leaders for the length and depth of its winters. That may help account for the number of above average poets found in the area. As far as I know, the Loft doesn't have an outpost in Duluth, although there is At Sarah's Table at Cascade Creek where several writing groups have been known to meet. I can't speak personally about the frequency with which Duluth poets Connie Wanek and Louis Jenkins are seen there but my hopes climb each time I stop by for a meal when I'm in Duluth. Jim Johnson, who writes poems about Finnish settlers, wolves, dovetailed corners and co-ops among other elements of northern Minnesota culture, comes from Cloquet, Duluth's next door neighbor. I discovered these wonderful writer's, and others, in the regional section of the (now closed) Northern Lights Books in Canal Park. I attended a session with Bart Sutter, Duluth's former poet laureate at a Loft event. I wish more local, independent bookstores would develop and maintain regional sections that included poetry and poets. That seems to be one of the few elements missing from My Minnesota. Maybe it has to do with the Midwest/Scandinavian aversion to calling attention to oneself. It certainly isn't because we don't have treasures worth promoting.

Kestrels, cats and caring

© harrington

This past Monday evening, I was participating in a board meeting of the local humane society, which, by the way, isn't part of the national humane society. Before the meeting started coming to order, one of the board members arrived with a cat carrier. Inside was a small, somewhat disheveled tabby looking very uncertain as to what might come next. Introductions were made between the tabby and several of the board members. The cat then proceeded to spend the entire meeting curled up in the arms of one of the members (not the same one who arrived with the cat), receiving the kind of strokes many of us would, no doubt, like to get more often. This reminded me of one of the evening presentations at the nature writing conference I attended in last September. It was put on by the Loft Literary Center at Audubon Center of the North Woods. The evening's presentation focused on local raptors and threats to their populations in Minnesota. Seeing a kestrel (above) and a barred owl up close was a rare and exciting experience, kind of like a cat at the board meeting. The audience of 50 or 60 at the conference far outnumbered the board membership of the local humane society. As far as I can tell, I was the only common participant. That makes me think that there are lots of us who are motivated to learn about and protect wildlife, domestic animals, and the environment on which we all depend. My Minnesota cares.

Community resilience

© harrington

Last September, I attended a Nature and Environmental Writing conference put on by the Loft Literary Center at the Audubon Center of the North Woods. While walking one of their trails from one session to the next, I noticed this holy tree. It made me think about the resilience demonstrated by most of nature. I certainly couldn't function with a hole that size in my trunk but this tree was alive, possibly thriving and contributing to its community. One of the lessons that seems to need reinforcement is that the key to success for humans has to be measured at the community level, not simply by aggregating the amount of individual success of each member. Hurricane Sandy is expected to put a $30 to $50 billion hole in our economy. We may survive that hole, but residents and businesses in New York and New Jersey are far from thriving. I think their problems derive, in part, from over-reliance on centralized, top down systems to deliver energy. The Audubon Center is a partial demonstration of an alternative. The photo below shows the Center's photovoltaic farm and related appurtenances. Imagine a community powered by a network like this where, Internet-like, locally-generated, renewable energy could flow around disruptions. That's the kind of future I'd like to see for My Minnesota.

© harrington