Transportational devices

Ever been on a trip to the past while you're standing in one place? This can happen just by visiting a location that feels familiar even though you may never have been there before. An old falling-apart barn in upstate NY leads to some crucial thinking and some "devastational" poetics...See photos and read more about the transport at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Useless pride

Backed down
like a Herzegovina nightmare,
it slips through slats
and suffers nothing less
than the slightest devastation.
Was it me in its poor cracked
pane or was it poorer vision?
I see the hairs I cut
still jagged and denying me.
I see the fragments of the last meal
pinned like kindergarten victories
to my working skirt.
Slats take cover, gray,
and founder in the night.
They hoard the sounds
of pestilence and pain,
and sort the weary from
the truly wretched.
When am I, farm-fronted,
and where am I and my
useless pride?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Love at first bite

You can't unbite an apple -- I'm sure that's what Eve must've thought. But it's very true. A little meditation and photoplay on the desire for forbidden fruit. Pictures and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Not of that tree

Is it true?
was all our simple sweetness
thrown aside to find
what possible pearl
lay beneath your stalwart skin?
Could we have seen within,
and known the deeper woes --
the tillage of the fields,
the shuddering of the grower
if the rains come hard or light --
we should have famished at the sight
or moved on in dumb design.
But so the story folded
and took that sin again;
no merchant sealed it with a coin
yet the soul of peace was sold
leaving only diffidence within.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Not far from the tree

Over at Golden Harvest Farms' orchard in Valatie, NY, the dwarf apple trees are now very heavy with fruit. We have a number of photos of these same trees -- spanning their cycle from February into late April in full flower up to now at the harvest -- and it makes for an interesting comparison. Experience their growth with us, and read more about the Farm at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Return to orchard -- harvest

The former forces
that delved your smooth
protuberances up rooting
toward the blue beyond
now abandon them to their red
globed fates -- they wait
pendantly footed and
what once was an upward-arcing,
skyward-stretching sketch is now
a fledged-out canopy,
realmed in earth and driven down
to compose a heavier,
deeper perfume,
looming low
and no less fragrant.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Once upon a yearling

It's that time of year -- when you may catch a glimpse of deer in the woods, sleeping off a recent meal on a bed of soft pine needles, staying as warm as they can, waiting for the change of seasons. They seem so peaceful -- it's hard to imagine that this is also prime hunting season. Photos and discussion at blog.amynelsonhahn.info...

Respite

Even in the frost of knowing,
these are warm --
the deer hasten
to relinquish their small blessings
and capsize languidly at last
on this forest floor.
Bitter winds are chastening,
days are sloping gracelessly
with the last green glints,
but under nests of nimble
thickened sheddings,
there the yearlings huddle,
even in the thick of days,
even in the auspice of preparing
for the hard frontier ahead.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Turn, turn, turn

How can you get a hydrangea to change its color? Funny you should ask, because we have all the details, plus photos and commentary on the change of seasons and the role of flowers in wedding lore. More at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Flora cambia

Sweet chameleon,
changeful as the year,
the rosy crimson
just tinging these vessels
is all that mourns the summer,
all that's left of their former
royal crush of
passionate magenta.
Autumn sweeps its brush
of subtlety and scathes
color from flora,
delivering swaths
among the woods.

(c) copyright Amy Nelson Hahn 2011
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Our eire is up

Welcome to the Irish 2000 Music and Arts Festival in Ballston Spa, NY -- we've got music and photos from contemporary Celtic rock bands Seven Nations and Gaelic Storm. Bagpipes, fiddles, this is where it's at! Photos, commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Song (for Gaelic Storm)

Mandolay lo lyre,
unspoken choruses
go unchanted rather sung
round unearthly fire --
all cast together,
an unbroken spell --
Mandolay lo lay
we'll never tell.
If a bow string falls
mandalay
If a shrill voice quickens
lay lo lay.
If you call me beggar
so much the better
to cherish my welcome
one sweet day
Mandalay...

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Myth congeniality

This tree branch...well, Andrew, sometimes to me, it looks like a raven. Or maybe even a lizard. That's what happens when you enter the realm of myth time. You start to see things differently. The Schaghticoke indians have their own way of looking at it -- find out more about them, too. More photos and info at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Totem, Schaghticoke

Howt! I stare
into your fire eye --
both bird and reptile,
scales and feathers shaking
glaring out of time
into the transit of recovery.
Haumpt! I dare
to breathe again
and the imaginary
of your several selves
turning in the north wind
unfolds and burns its purpose,
sharing space with my prayers.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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By any other name

When is a rose bush just a rose bush? Well, certainly not in this blogpost, where the flowers take on a life of their own. Discussion of making meaning through ekphrasis and some lovely photos of multiflora roses, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Ramble roses

Cousins toward the fence,
nothing purples like a poke
from your thin fingers.
Rosaline hue,
though you are overdue
for bramble shirring --
enough of all this
rampant fleuring;
you pique and parson
off the lot.
What? Twenty-four of you?
It overfloats the cottage
with a boulverse of corsages,
each leaflet nimbly covering
each sister leaflet's folly,
each reddened cheek a hush
and a pensive glance,
a turn along the avenue.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Sacre bleu

Blue -- okay, maybe not known as the happiest color. But it certainly can be productive artistically. And thought-provoking. A "blue mood" in photographs may convey some warm sentiments...find out more at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Blue

In your cadmium double,
equally liquid,
there is the trance
and sentimental wandering
of my dearest eye --
calm where it is calm,
divided by the dark expanse
I cannot marginalize
of often quite traverse.
Located cross this yearning world,
I find my mirrored soul;
abreast of the wide divide,
a blue that echoes mine.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Pigs is pigs

Four legs good, two legs...well, not so tasty, we hope. Andrew shares some photos of the pigs at the Columbia County Fair, but I add some thoughts as to the awkward relationship between a pig and its own deliciousness. To be continued, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Animal farm

Such ill manners
and yet such lovely
pink ears --
no wonder all the young girls
adore you so,
even though
you root in the muck.
Everyone needs a rumbler
to stir things up a bit.
Hard to wear out such a
fathomless welcome
as a maiden heart;
but everyone does know --
bacon is tasty of a morning;
and crisp.
Maybe in another life
you'll be the king presiding,
passing judgment
on sweeter injustices
than simply
being good to eat.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Fleeced again

Is a ram really "ram tough"? Or is it "soft as a lamb"? Can it be both? Looking at the Rambouillet sheep at the Columbia County Fair, we consider the possibilities. Photos and discussion at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Argosy

The fairness of your eye
belies the barbary mettle
churning behind its kind resolve;
and each curlicue swirl
of carapace declares,
you won't be tampered lightly,
though your fine garment
breeds gentle fortunes.
The delves and furrows,
the deft chenille
that girds your flanks
decries your martial image
with the pale softness of its whorl.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Entre moos

At the Columbia County Fair in Chatham, NY, you can see young 4-H'ers proudly display their prize animals, which are sometimes cows five times their size. But is it hard to raise an animal from birth and then give it up because it has been raised for sale to breeders or for food? Today's blog considers these thoughts, with some captivating photos, at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Bonding

These are the eyes
that pulled mine out of the stable
trance that held your mother
shivering in the stall --
when you arrived you were all
I could see or raise a thought
to care about.
Now big and brown and fine,
you strip me of the willingness
to harm any of your kind.
I lead you down this dappled lane
and it seems a league of shame,
though I'm so proud of you --
and I acknowledge our bond
must be severed
in the end.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Talk to the animals

An interesting aside: two of Chatham Alpaca farm's denizens having a little "confab" across a fence inspire some questions about the nature and content of animal communication. Photos and commentary at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Always greener

Does it shamble
after amble where you are?
Does the thin protruding foil
of tinctured leaves
meet your feet with equal
propinquity?
or is it only me who trembles
just a bit where greenness
tills the grass?
It should be familiar
as the skin we're in by now,
but sometimes when the dew-slugs
slicken in glossy rows,
and the glow slinks low past the furze,
isn't this a delicious place
to be alive?
Is yours so green as mine?

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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From Peru to you

A visit to Chatham Alpacas of Chatham, NY, leads to some thoughts on the raising of exotic animals and the cuteness of large ruminants. For some special photos and discussion, go to blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Transplant

It grows cold here
part of the year;
and at times the sweet grass
is almost golden
with sudden sun --
it strikes across the field
at such an angle.
And it feels easy,
almost natural to run,
the trim Hudson breeze sifting
aimlessly over silky spun
September coats.
How odd and yet
how perfectly at peace:
you never knew Peru.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Pump it up

A lot of New England is still fending off the floodwaters of Hurricane Irene. We share some images of the rising tides and some thoughts on a few words President Obama might like to share with the residents of Paterson, NJ, when he visits. Photos and text at blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Persistence

Much in the way
a slag stump
stands in the tide
and will not give over;
much in the way
the sharp-angled jet
of a wayward stone
takes years to overthrow
with courses of whet and billows
of white thrashings;
like these our haggard days
lash themselves to the mast
and chide the storm.
We furl and thicken
in the christening wind,
and will not give over.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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Amazingrace

Somehow, it seems almost inappropriate that it is always so beautiful to look at the world after a major storm. But despite the damage and devastation, the challenges of cleaning up, there is a freshness and a newness already imbued by the weather and the water, not to mention the collective efforts of people shouldering together to do their very best. For some amazing photos and more thoughts, read blog.amynelsonhahn.info

Benign

Credible signs
partition the air,
and we consider them fair --
delight, in fact, in their light
espousal of a point of view
outside of our own.
There is rain,
and then the sun
creates this magic act --
surely that's all it can form
after all that's been borne.
Rivers dash upon the rocks,
slap us naked upon the tree,
and still we howl for more,
because in the end
it was for the good.
The waters deepen --
all that's left is mist,
rising and cooling
credible signs
all for the good.

Copyright (c) 2011 Amy Nelson Hahn

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