Fairy Webs and Deadheads
Intro: I took a writing class at Hamline University in 1992 that included a unit on description of a place. My journals are filled with cabin vignettes, places memorized in my heart. Deadheads was a piece I wrote after turning in several poems and an essay highlighting description. I give it to you first, in case you are unfamiliar with the term, an integral part of this tale.
Deadheads
“The white lilies have closed their palms, pedal fingers reaching up, touching their tips together.
The ancient deadhead bobs in the waves, among the bogs in the evenings elongated shadows.”
I wrote about that deadhead once. I handed in a descriptive paragraph about this cove and the professor returned my paper with a big thick red circle around the word DEADHEAD, and the comment: “Word does not exist. What are you talking about? Should not use.”
At the time, I felt deflated as a writer-in-the-making. It didn’t occur to me that maybe, just maybe, I knew more about bogs and coves and white lilies and yes, old logs, nearly sunken, covered by slimy mosses, slickened over the years of its floating with only the tip of its trunk visible to the kayaker’s eye. That is a deadhead.
A teacher who characterizes without knowledge beyond their own sphere, leaves students paralyzed, discouraged, maybe even stopping them forever. That, too, is a DEADHEAD.
Julia Creek in Early Morning
From cabin journal 2001
The spider fairies were very busy last night.
The cattails are woven together, web cradles hang lightly in the breeze.
Dewdrops cling on the silk left in timeless patterns, unreproducible by man.
The heron watches me put a hole in the beaver dam,
freeing the upstream waters to visit the downstream waters.
Waters gushing and giggling as they flow over the rocks and twigs
making mini-waterfalls, leaving the dam and their confinement behind.
A nearby grasshopper put his legs together rubbing out a ‘tisk, tisk, tisk’
as I floated by his grassy bog, the purple pickerel weeds and clogged lily pads.
The fog is burning off, with the sun to my back – the way ahead becoming clear.
I glance behind and see them, dozens of them, draped with sparkling-moist droplets.
These Fairy Laces of spider webs, bow between reeds, cling to overripe cattails, glimmer from dead branches, hundreds of dainty doilies, spun by tiny beings in the night.
Every season, this creek flows between Julia and Virgin.
Every season, the water boatman and the mallards return.
These seasons will continue long after I’ve left the creek.
I will miss the creek with its Fairy webs and ancient deadheads.
Thankfully, it will flow on and not miss me.
~~~
Thankfully, I did not let that professor shut me down forever. I went on to write what was in my heart. I finally trusted myself.
Has something like this ever happened to you? Was there ever a time in your life when you DID know something, but were questioned by someone regarded as the expert? Did you shut down, or did you go forward?
Spider fairies, dainty doilies, web cradles . . . I LOVE your expressiveness, Jan! I’m so glad you rebounded away from your Deadheaded expert. You have SO MUCH to say so VERY beautifully! I am in awe . . . thank you for choosing to continue expressing yourself!
Lauren, Yes, I trusted myself on that one, but still find myself wondering sometimes if the “other” person knows more. Trusting our own knowledge was less obvious than taking instructions from elders!
I love that you express yourself through music and acting. Good thing we have diverse talents and that we haven’t been shut down!
Gracias!
I totally agree with Lauren. Your words leave such clear pictures in my head. I don’t really need your photos, tho they are beautiful. My mind finds the pics all by itself. I do enjoy reading your blog and your newsletter, and I too have stood at those rallies and protests, and recently wondering if it will ever end. Unfortunately it may end simply by the person in charge right now making it deadly illegal to protest. And I use the term deadhead all the time – taking the spent blossoms off my plants. I spend lots of hours deadheading…… Not quite your definition, but it is definitely a word.
Keep up the important work of keeping us tuned into the world as you see it.
Nan
Nan, Always good to hear from you. Presently, the definition of “deadhead” seems to be expanding. I hadn’t thought about flowers, but now we can add to the vocabulary of politics. Whoops. I digress.
I am so hoping that all the small acts of kindness, intentional messaging and some strong leaders overcome the disfunction we are being held under. It is a domino deal, all of us quivering in the “shiny, spider web” – as I believe all things are connected. We must stay connected, dear friend.