The woods are lovely

When viewed from a picture window, of course.

I've spent a few days in the apartment in the woods that will again be my temporary home almost half of each week for the rest of this year. I'll be up here the days when I teach and I already appreciate how spending nights near The Village (as people refer to this place) allows me to be a part of this community.

Last night, I attended a poetry reading by Cherokee poet Diane Glancy, which was enthralling. I'm teaching her novel, Pushing the Bear: A Novel of the Trail of Tears, at the end of the semester as part of my postcolonial class this term (which, BTW, is going awesomely because my students are awesome).

As I listened to her astounding poetry, I felt the immense privilege and excitement that I remember feeling at Harvard as an undergraduate and graduate student. That feeling came with realizing how fortunate I was to have access to incalculable resources and opportunities. As a young African American professor I know likes to quote, with great privilege comes great responsibility, and I hope that I take that axiom as seriously as I should in life.

After Glancy concluded, I asked her about her inclusion of the unglossed (unstranslated) Cherokee language in her novel and her answer astounded me. Many Latin@ authors use unglossed Spanish in their literature as a sign of resistance, basically to place their Anglo readers in the uncomfortable position that most Spanish-speakers (or any-language-other-than-English speakers) find themselves in this country.

But Glancy said she included the Cherokee language, which had an alphabet that was completely different to the Latin-based one, not only to give the story authenticity but also to rescue the language from near oblivion.

"I could not write the novel in that language, since I don't speak it and it's not a language that's used anymore, it's more like Medieval English at this point," Glancy said, adding that she did archival research at the Newberry Library in Chicago and consulted with experts so she could use the Cherokee language in her novel.

Wow, I thought, admiring her even more.

After hearing her, I wished more than ever that I had the facility to write poetry. I can write well enough, I know, but never like she does, and like other of my favorite poets do. But that's alright, I guess. I don't have to be the best at everything. I'm not in competition with myself (or anyone else, for that matter). I can be content with the things I do well and with those I don't do so well. Still, maybe some time I'll take a poetry workshop and see how that goes.

Once the reading concluded, the two wonderful professors who teach the eighteenth century here invited me to accompany them to the village cafe for dinner. I had already had my meager dinner at home before the reading, but I very much appreciated the offer of company (the dogs aren't great conversationalists, of course) and I had a very nice hour or so, chatting about Jane Austen and about dogs.

They have a beautiful, huge husky who likes to stand up from his preferred seat at the base of the large picture windows in their living room when I walk Rusty and Geni by in the evenings. My dogs love it here. Rusty, I'm sure, appreciates that there are no steps to climb or to go down on and that we now take three walks a day, not just two. Geni, as usual, is just along for the ride.

I also have a large picture window and have set my laptop on a small table in front of it so that I can look out into the woods. Their bewitching loveliness reminds me of Robert Frost's caution about having "promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep."

Just now, two ocean-blue Blue Jays have noticed the bird seed I put outside the window but they're not so sure about me so they're staying at a safe distance, hopping around in the woods. A diminutive but braver chickadee has come by several times and a tit-mouse, which I don't get to see back home, also flits in and out, fearless.

Later this afternoon the dogs and I will return to our real home, where my husband and the two cats await us. But we'll be back again this way next week and both the dogs and I will look forward to that, just as much as we look forward to going back home today.