I had forgotten all about this till late Thursday but scrabbled together a rough draft to honour him. I have been researching trees, forests, and loggers so while reading about Lee Bennet Hopkins' devotion to poets and poetry I began to see him as a mother tree. For those of you who don't know about mother trees, according to Suzanne Simard, science communication professor at UBC, "Mother trees are the largest trees in forests that act as central hubs for vast below ground mycorrhizal networks. They support young trees or seedlings by infecting them with fungi and ferrying them the nutrients they need to grow."
Honouring Lee Bennet Hopkins (draft)
Lee was a mother tree
succoring poets and poetry
sugaring the diets of scribblers who
he debuted with much ado
Lee was a mother tree
promoting poets and poetry
collating books chock full of verse
on topics many and diverse
Lee was a mother tree
seeding poets and poetry
children in lands from far and wide
discovered verses deep inside
Lee was a mother tree
serving poets and poetry
the community he helped grow strong
grieves his passing now that he’s gone
Meanwhile, I am still slogging away on my memoir in verse. I think the end is in sight.
I was five in 1958, when my family joined other relatives on a logging and homesteading adventure into the Pine River region of Northern British Columbia.
I'm committed to sharing a bit every week so that I don't give up. I appreciate feedback on the construction of the poetry and ideas and questions about what information might be missing.
First Snow
winter came early to that land
a brief tint of autumn
announcing the end of summer
a skiff of bright white crystals
ornamented, glorified the forest
a promise:
more to come
a warning:
get ready
trussed up in
heavy coats,
mitts,
scarves,
toques and boots,
Mommy sent
Rae, Zoe and me
out to play
we three snow nymphs
cavorted 'round
our wild white world
chasing snowflakes
with our tongues
inhaling
air giddy with the
fragrance of fresh cut pine
exhaling plumes of steam
Daddy,
our tall, blond,
plaid jacketed God,
laboured in a sacred halo
of golden sawdust
quartering up
chunks of tree trunks:
fuel for the winter ahead
our squeals of glee
sang counterpoint
to the buzz of his chainsaw
and whack of an ax
clambering
to the top
of the growing
mountain of wood
we chanted
Look Daddy! Look Daddy!
We are taller than you!
glancing up at us
he hollered
Be careful up there!
when you are five
you abide
serene in the ordinary
miracles of life
oblivious to how
precious a moment is
how swiftly it can all change
Here are links to previous Pine Valley poems.
Leaving
Characters
Journey
Arrival
Preparedness
Ready and Willing
Larder
Laundry
Diaper Duty
Skunk Trouble
Working
Pawns
Crossing
Bath Time
invincible
Explorer
Time For Fun
Oh, this metaphor for Lee is perfect. And I am thinking of THE HIDDEN LIFE OF TREES, a book our son has loved so much. And "First Snow" holds a magic - those ending lines. I sigh. x
ReplyDeleteI adore The Hidden Life of Trees. Such a magical book!
DeleteI have missed you! Each week I look, look, look to see if there is another installment of the story. I think this means that you've hooked me. The "skiff of white crystals" really caught my eye. Lovely. And, what a wonderful way to think of Lee, a Mother Tree. It's perfect and dear and I'm sure he would feel honored to know that you think of him in this way. Wow. A lovely post. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words Linda. I am sorry that I never got to meet LBH in person, but feel that I am getting to know him vicariously through all the posts today.
DeleteThanks for all, Cheriee - your tribute poem for Lee, and, your First Snow poem!!
ReplyDelete"..laboured in a sacred halo/of golden sawdust" - swoon.
And, killer last line. Thanks for sharing!
Thanks for your kind words Robyn. I'm so glad you noted that line. It was hard work to come up with those words to capture my feelings about my father as a young girl.
DeleteYour entire post mixes together so beautifully, Cheriee, Lee as Mother Tree of all the poets & poems he so cherished, your father, too, watching out for you & the others and that final part "how
ReplyDeleteprecious a moment is
how swiftly it can all change
is truth for all of us. You may have 'scrabbled' it all together, but the poem for Lee is lovely & I am enjoying your memoir poems very much. You may like The Overstory by Richard Powers which I'm in the middle of reading, particularly poignant today with the Amazon Forest fire news. Thanks for all!
Thanks for the heads up about The Overstory. My library has a copy available now. (If only I wasn't already overwhelmed with books to read) I've added it and hope to carve out time to read it.
DeleteCheriee, Lee as a mother tree-what a glorious thought as he nurtured so many poets and students who enjoyed his poetry. Here are the lines from your logging verse that dazzle my thoughts:
ReplyDeleteinhaling
air giddy with the
fragrance of fresh cut pine
exhaling plumes of steam
These words paint a wonderful picture of childhood play. I agree with everyone that your last lines is beautiful.
Today, whenever I smell fresh pine, I am taken back to that day in woods and our life up north. I'm fascinated by how a smell can trigger such a profound memory.
DeleteYes, a mother tree! Perfect.
ReplyDeleteI'm so glad that this metaphor resonates with people today.
DeleteLee was definitely a "mother tree" to poets and poetry. I loved both of your poems. The last line of "First Snow"...Wow!
ReplyDeleteThank Linda. It seems that that last line resonates for many people.
DeleteLove how you think of Lee as a mother tree, the central hub for a vast poetry network, as he is. And your poem painting that winter day is exquisite. I love the sounds in this stanza:
ReplyDelete"our squeals of glee
sang counterpoint
to the buzz of his chainsaw
and whack of an ax"
I can literally hear all the sounds of this moment in your five year old life.
Thank you for your kind words Ramona. This memory is a profound one for me.
DeleteWhat a great analogy for Lee. He was most definitely a mother tree! And I'm sure he would have loved that analogy as well. I love the children's giddiness in "First Snow". It makes the turn at the end all the more threatening.
ReplyDeleteThanks Michelle. I like to think he is smiling down from somewhere appreciating all our accolades.
DeleteLee was definitely a mother tree! I love how you used your research and passion to honor him!
ReplyDeleteThanks Mary Lee.
DeleteThe mother tree is a perfect metaphor for Lee. I believe I heard Suzanne on the TED RAdio podcast--her research is fascinating. I've enjoyed reading your poems from the logging experience of your family.
ReplyDeleteThanks Kay. The more tribute poems and posts I'm reading, the more fitting the metaphor seems. I agree, her work is brilliant. Have you read The Hidden Life of Trees?
DeleteI love that mother tree refrain, and of course "poetree," and your tribute to Lee. Even more I love the next installment of your memoir, Cheriee. Your writing is cracklingly vivid, shows us what's important but leaves always enough unsaid to engage. When you have reached the end, I would love to read the whole thing and offer criti*ue. I think it's going to be a terrific book.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your offer Heidi. I have started mulling over what to do after I edit it next. I know I need some serious feedback!
Delete