Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I Tried Till I Was Blue in the Face
Digital Images by Ann Johnson
Oh, my goodness. City living was such a challenge for me. I didn't realize just how much of an Island soul I am. I am visiting downstate Illinois at the moment. Summer began yesterday, marked by stifling humidity; a lightning bug floating by midday; a walk with three young women: my daughter, her friend from Estonia (remember the documentary, The Singing Revolution?), and her friend from Germany who is a new mother. This morning a dragonfly landed on the path in front of me, all four wings vibrating in syncopated rhythm that soon came to stillness.
Oh, my goodness. City living was such a challenge for me. I didn't realize just how much of an Island soul I am. I am visiting downstate Illinois at the moment. Summer began yesterday, marked by stifling humidity; a lightning bug floating by midday; a walk with three young women: my daughter, her friend from Estonia (remember the documentary, The Singing Revolution?), and her friend from Germany who is a new mother. This morning a dragonfly landed on the path in front of me, all four wings vibrating in syncopated rhythm that soon came to stillness.I am witnessing the impacts of the Great Recession in all my travels. An Irish film crew put together a dark comedy in the form of a silent movie. You may find it interesting on
YouTube: Scenes from the Great Recession, 2009 (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8gAfPWnRvRM
For 36 hours this week (June 15-17), I had the feeling once again of having a job to return to following my August Residency, along with the promise of retirement and health benefits. A school offered me a job, but daily were in heavy union negotiations. The job offer came Monday afternoon and was retracted Wednesday morning! "We no longer have a position to offer you. We may have federal stimulus money coming to create a position, but there is no guarantee. Sorry, Ann." The travels in rural Illinois to go to interviews have provided lots of material for short video clips, photos and poetry.
Uncommon Fields
Planted pockets are tucked
into a communion of oaks
and maples and osage.
The Farmer
buttons up a narrow
placket
with corn
between the roadway
and the rails.
Across the road
on long shirttails of soil,
golden mustard
paints the set-aside lands
surrounding the red barn
under the sea blue sky.
into a communion of oaks
and maples and osage.
The Farmer
buttons up a narrow
placket
with corn
between the roadway
and the rails.
Across the road
on long shirttails of soil,
golden mustard
paints the set-aside lands
surrounding the red barn
under the sea blue sky.
Friday, June 12, 2009
PARABOLA's Summer Issue
Digital Images, Marina Dawn and Signposts, by Ann Johnson
The summer issue of PARABOLA has the theme of Water that may be of interest to Island Women and their soulvoices.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Seeds of an Open Heart
Digital Images by Ann Johnson
On the way back to my sister's, I distributed the Nasturtium seeds in the dirt between sprouting grass, dandelions, a crushed Marlboro flip-box, an empty prescription bottle, wadded up McDonald's hamburger paper, and a stomped-on Mt. Dew bottle. It will be interesting to see if any of the "guerrilla greening" will sprout. Nasturtiums thrive on neglect and flower more profusely in poor soil........and are edible! I'm all for edible lovelies.
I also found a noon performance by a string quartet doing Hadyn's The Last Seven Words of Christ within walking distance. On the way and back, the songs of robins, cardinals and mourning doves kept me company.
On the way back to my sister's, I distributed the Nasturtium seeds in the dirt between sprouting grass, dandelions, a crushed Marlboro flip-box, an empty prescription bottle, wadded up McDonald's hamburger paper, and a stomped-on Mt. Dew bottle. It will be interesting to see if any of the "guerrilla greening" will sprout. Nasturtiums thrive on neglect and flower more profusely in poor soil........and are edible! I'm all for edible lovelies.
I also found a noon performance by a string quartet doing Hadyn's The Last Seven Words of Christ within walking distance. On the way and back, the songs of robins, cardinals and mourning doves kept me company.
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