Memoir in Verse or Poetic Memoir - Seems I Have Been Writing Mine For Years Unknowingly
I am a gatherer of small stones. For years friends have asked me when I was going to write my memoir about living and teaching in small tribal villages above the Arctic circle and along the western coast of Alaska. I remember thinking so clearly that I wouldn't be writing about my life from a position of looking back as I had much to write about in the present. I also focused my poetry and art on what was all around me as a way of staying grounded in a life so far from family and long-standing friends. When I lived above the Arctic circle, the only flowers I saw while out walking in the Spring were dandelions (rare sightings and always near electrical poles), snow buttercups and cotton grass. Above: Snow Buttercups Above: Cotton Grass There were some hard to find, but there, alpine flowers. I remember an elder once told me to note were I spied caribou grazing, return there later and maybe I'd find some to take home and press in my diary. I came across a patch of Alpine...
