Moment of Inertia
It’s what makes the pancake hold still
while you slip the spatula under it
so fast it doesn’t move, my father said
standing by the stove.
All motion stopped when he died.
With his last breath the earth
lurched to a halt and hung still on its axis,
the atoms in the air
coming to rest within their molecules,
and in that moment
something slid beneath me
so fast I couldn’t move.
“Moment of Inertia” by Debra Spencer from Pomegranate
My sister sent me an email:
When I read this poem today I had vivid memories of making pancakes with dad and him saying “only flip them once – when you see bubbles that’s the time to flip them, but only once” that was his steak cooking theory too. be patient and only flip once.
I myself have ruined way more pancakes than I’ve flipped properly or prettily. I did not inherit Papa Moss’ patience gene, but the poem is lovely. Perfect.
Today after lunch my brood and I were lined up at the door to come in. I was giving my We-Are-Not-In-A- Circus speech, when one of the kiddos let out a high pitched squeal and pointed up into the sky.
“A BAG!”
ACKK
eek
more shrieks
I may have screamed. I don’t recall.
We all stared up at the black plastic bag filled with air, pirouetting 200 feet over our heads. It spun over our bungalow, then caught an updraft and soared even higher. Every one of us stood there transfixed. Craning our necks in unison. After a few minutes the bag drifted down.
oh no!
gasps of dismay
mouths shaped like O’s
NO!
Down the bag came on the street side of the fence. Back to earth where it started. There was a collective sigh. We tromped inside.
The feeling as we watched that old bag carried on the wind: pure delicious wonder.
Nothing I’ve written so far has anything to do with the accompanying photos. That’s just the way I roll some days.
I did want to mention the lack of writing on my visual journal pages lately. I’m still writing I just do it afterwards. It’s a solution that has brought me home to my book. I have to keep some parts for myself. The tiny spread up top are the finished pages.
Wyatt dreaming deep on the couch. His classic cape-on flying dream pose. Good boy.
And on my kitchen window sill, freesia, which fill that room with the smell of yellow. Divine.
Okay, look:
That CAT.
Hi Mary Ann – I’ve been lurking around your wonderful, beautiful blog….um…for awhile. Just thought I should identify myself….And say that you really inspire me. I’m about ready to pick up a spray can and have a go at my journal. This post, in particular, I love. The wonderful poem and your kitty and the flowers and the bag story. I often stop and watch bags fly so ephemerally through the air. Makes me think of the movie American Beauty. Mesmerizing. I have a 9 year old and the antics of your 2nd graders remind me of my 4th grader. Their sweet faces are inspiring. I love your ideas of renting the bus for a YEAR! Think how much they’d learn! Love your blog and I’ll try not to lurk about so much, but will drop you a note when I’ve cruised by. Which is often. Take care! Fran
Great post as usual, I can almost smell the freesias from the other side of the world. Your cat certainly knows how to relax. If only we could sleep like that.
Ro
Witches Knickers sounds like fun to me, unless you are the witch who has lost her knickers~could get a bit breezy~LOL.
Fantastic visit here…my pug sleeps on the couch just like your cat, arms hanging over the sides!
wonderful story and the freesia, well, sheesh, someday we’ll have sunny, flowery days here.
I love your style and your journal pages. I am wondering if you have ever thought of sharing how you make those stencils, I would love to make some, but really dont have a clue.
I really love the black plastic bag story. And the art. And your cat. Great post!
Oh, wow… thanks for the poem. *That’s* what I imagine when it’s said that a poet’s job is to capture a moment precisely. “Moments of Inertia” was exactly how I felt when my dad died.
I happen to be working on an artist book about my late parents, inspired by the lyrics of “Someday” by Sugar Ray. Just posted about the latest page on my own blog. Thanks for the serendipity.
M.A. that poem grabbed my heart and gave a squeeze until it stopped for just one-two beats.
Where do I begin with all the beauty that you share with us here?? And Wyatt- man, don’t you just wish for a nap that good?? Love the new banner too!
I can smell that freesia all the way here! Your pages are so excellent and I love that you wait to write on them for later sometimes. Everyone needs a bit of privacy sometimes. 🙂
Your description of the plastic bag reminds me of a key scene from my favourite film of all time: American Beauty. So still, so full of wonder. Have you seen it?
There is beauty everywhere you look and children are lucky if they start looking when they’re young.
Wyatt pose – what a darling!
A visit with Mary Ann. Bliss.
*love*love*love* the cat photo –
stencil that, non?
also, i tagged you for a meme…
Some days I wish I could be like a cat and just chill like that…complete in cape on dream 😉
Plastic bags look so beautiful flying in the air..I think that’s the only time they are beautiful!
k
That is SOME yellow! I could almost scoop it off the screen. mmmm dimensional.
Those moments in a school day make it the best job – no other line of work allows you to laugh every single day, to love others and to re-experience wonder every day. If you teach and don’t experience this then something desperately needs to change. MaryAnn your own sense of wonder nourishes and is nourished by your alligators. The world is FILLED with wonders. Yay for little kids.
Here in the UK, those old plastic bags which get caught up in trees are called “Witches Knickers” by children – the witch has flown too low on her broomstick and lost her underwear.