Tag Archives: NaPoWriMo Challenge 2025

April 22, 2025 Happy Earth Day! & Context for Poem “Earth Day, 2025”

Posted on by
1
Full Rainbow Outside of Northfield, Minnesota
Afternoon Rainbow on Our Kitchen Floor

I associate outdoor light and shine with Earth Day, and I have every since I was sitting on our porch swing on Earth Day in 2000, with a nine-month-old Julia on my lap. The light rainfall ceased and a double rainbow appeared across the street. “Julia, Julia!” I said, “The Earth loves us back!”

Today’s poem, “Earth Day, 2025,” echoes that emotion for me.

These photos of sedums in our front garden were taken yesterday. They are “glazed with rainwater” in a way that I think that William Carlos Williams would appreciate, and we are thrilled that these robust, low-lying plants are coming up again, vernicose and welcome.

The prompt word that I chose today from Rosendahl’s glossary, “vernicose,” was not known to me before. I was quite taken with its definition, “shiny, as though varnished,” especially when applied to growing plants. As I sought to learn more online, I was questioned repeatedly about the spelling–did I not mean “varicose”?–no, I did not! I conclude that vernicose is not a commonly used word. I did, however, learn that vernicose leaves, especially in houseplants, are a sign of radiant health.

Wishing you a day of brightness and brilliant health, and the same to our beloved planet, Earth! LESLIE

April 4, 2025 Context for the Poem “Delta”

Posted on by
4

Today’s prompt was a word that I knew but did not know was a botanical term: “Deltoid”. I have never quite noticed how the cottonwood tree produces triangular leaves, or that the veins on the leaves resemble the mouths of the world’s great rivers.

That word and context made me think of the triangle, the delta shape, and from there to memories along the Mississippi River.

April 3, 2025 Context for Poem “Autumn Artifacts”

Posted on by
Reply

Another borrowing a few hundred years ago into English from Latin, the adjective “coriaceous” is deemed a “botanical nerd word” by the Toronto Botanical Garden. (In Latin, “corium” means “leather.”) How does this animal terms mix it up with the plant world? It is another metaphorical seed contained within the word itself. Think of the stiff and tough leaves of waterlilies or rhododendrons or oak leaves. Even tougher and stiffer after a long winter on the ground. The oak leaves pictured blew onto our patio this week, all bronzy and gleaming. They are beautiful in their own way, but we are ready for the soft greens of early spring so they seem to me distinctly out of season.

More on “Bracts”: According to my friend, Bob Bensen, bracts are modified leaves often thought of as flower parts. But they are leaves that are often a sign of flowers to come. Thanks, Bob!

April 2, 2025 Context for Poem “Collars”

Posted on by
2

Nicholas Hilliard (English, 1547- 1619). An Unknown Woman, aged 26, 1593. Watercolour on vellum stuck onto a playing card; 5.8 x 4.8 cm. London: Victoria and Albert Museum

Detail: Anthony van Dyck (Dutch, 1599-1641). Henri II de Lorraine, 1634. Oil on canvas; 204.6 x 123.8 cm. Washington DC: National Gallery of Art, 1947.14.1. Gift of Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney. Source: National Gallery of Art

John Witherspoon, an 18th-century Presbyterian minister, wearing preaching bands

The “Dissent Collar” worn by Ruth Bader Ginsburg, now in the Smithsonian

Today’s poem, “Collars,” was sparked by thinking about the botanical structures that support and decorate certain flowers. To me, these petal/leaf ruffs suggested collars, and that got me to wonder how collars have evolved.

About today’s word: Though I had guessed it was of German or Dutch derivation, I now understand that “bract” came into English in the 18th century from the Latin word bractea, which means “plate of metal.” I am still a little uncertain about which flowers sports petals rather than bracts, as well as how that determination is made. It seems that it depends upon location–bracts below and supporting petals/flowers–and often–but not always–in terms of texture and color, with bracts being more leaflike and a bit sturdier. Both petals and bracts can use color to attract pollinators, though. Today, I am content to recognize that bracts and petals are different but perhaps complementary structures, and to know that whatever they are called I find them both beautiful.

Dogwood, Calaway Gardens, 2011 (photo: Karla Schultz)

(Above, a gorgeous image of bracts by my sister, Karla)

(Two images of bracts–waterlilies in Bog Lake, Minnesota–2022)

April 1, 2025 — Commencement of the April Poem Challenge & Background on My Poem for Today: “Citified Yawps”

Posted on by
4
Our wintered-over grasses, now cut down

Today I learned a new word, the catalyst for a new poem. The poem, “Citified Yawps,” was sparked by the word “awn.” I encountered this word for the first time this morning in the glossary of a venerable botanical reference book, Trees and Shrubs of the Upper Midwest by Carl O. Rosehdahl.

I don’t own this book, but my friend, Bob Bensen, retired plant scientist and poetry lover, kindly made a copy of its glossary for me. I knew immediately that I could use this list of terms as prompts–as seeds, in effect–for this year’s April poems. In addition, I could extend a little bit my patchy knowledge of the plant world.

For me, it is always helpful to have an impetus when faced with the blank page and the need to write a poem in the next hour. I don’t seem to do very well with prompts offered by other people, though–not sure why–and so this year I am planning to use botanical terms unfamiliar to me.

About today’s poem: “Citified Yawps,” was inspired by the word “awn” in the glossary form Rosendahl’s book. If you, too, are curious about this delightful syllable, the link above will take you to a precise definition and a photo. I hope that I have used the word correctly as well as metaphorically. The surprise to me was how this syllable offered me a luge ride right into the work of Walt Whitman, right to my favorite passage, 52, from his “Song of Myself” which contains the passage:

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love,

If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.

as well as that fabulous phrase, “barbaric yawps”.

Awns are described as the “beards” of grasses, and so the associations brought Whitman to mind immediately. (Is this a word that everyone else already knows? Probably! I am glad it is now a part of my own vocabulary.)

Whitman is not in my circle of all-time favorite poets, but his influence on modern poetry cannot be denied, clearly.

Wishing you joy and poems all April long!

Note: I share April poems via email. If you are not already receiving these daily poem emails and would like to, let me know and I will add you to the list.