Gratitude journal, with sun and poetry

Orange tulips in the back yard

I’m thankful for sun! And tulips! And the lilacs are close to blooming.

I’m thankful for time spent with my daughter, who came down for the weekend. Shopping and lunch. I’m a terrible shopper, so I’m grateful for her help. And lunch is always fun.

I’m thankful for my book club friends and for chilling with them at my sister’s house and discussing Sea of Poppies. And I was reminded that it’s the first book in a trilogy, which is probably why the ending made me say, “What the heck?”

I’m thankful for poetry month and for being able to keep up–barely–with writing a poem a day. And I’m thankful to be caught up on reading submissions for The Smoking Poet.

I’m thankful for the poetry reading at Edmonds Bookshop (a favorite bookstore that I don’t get to often), and getting to hear Victoria Ford and Joan Swift and hearing Holly Hughes read–especially that amazing poem she wrote for Jack Gilbert (that one’s in my head for good) and then hearing Jack McCarthy, which is always an incredible treat. And then this afternoon, turning on the radio and hearing this wonderful, familiar voice telling a story–and it was Jack McCarthy, on the radio!

I’m thankful I was able to squeeze in a whirlwind day of meeting with the poets in Fremont and then zipping up to Open Books to hear Carol Levin read from her new book,┬áStunned by┬áthe Velocity. It was one of those packed-to-the-rafters readings, a really festive gathering. I look forward to sitting down later, in a quieter time, and spending some more time with those poems and their stories.

I’m thankful for a place to live, good food, and my family. I try to remember the basics, with gratitude.