Squam and the Poetry of Place

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I’ll write a longer blog post in a few days about my amazing experience leading seven writers through a six-hour found poetry workshop at the Squam Arts Retreat where we braved the chill of our renovated sugar house classroom (COLD few days in NH), dodged some well-fed, yet still hungry mosquitoes, but were rewarded with the above: blue sky, blue water, sun (almost 70)  and, in my case, the sight of two deer swimming toward shore at 6 a.m. Whew, that was one sentence, kind of sums up those intense five days of Squam for me.

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Home for five days, my cottage (which I shared with an old friend from Maine) aptly named ‘Bungalow’

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The day I broke camp fireplace rules (because I didn’t read the rules) and kept the fire burning all day. The night before had been in the 40s, outside and in. ‘Nough said.

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Standing in the ‘kitchen’ one can see the living room (also my bedroom) and the porch

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The lovely dining hall. Check out that vintage wooden canoe hanging from the beams

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A submerged sitting area. For reference I included the one high and dry on the dock. Always the poet, I kind of loved the juxtaposition and the fact that both are empty, pointing in the same direction as if inhabited by invisible occupants.

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‘Rock’ is short for ‘Rockywold’ the name of one of the camps, but Rock Dining sounds very romantic, conjures images of a Victorian picnic on boulders. This is one woodland path at the camp which would look just like my backyard in western Mass but for the knit bombs.

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The Sugar House, my cold but picturesque classroom. This building does appear to have functioned as a sugar house in the past, when it would have been steamy warm and sweetly fragrant with boiling maple. I had space heaters.

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My class. I hope to have a couple more photos of the class in action for my longer post. We’ll see.

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Enormous dream-catcher with everyone’s hopes and dreams written on the dangling feathers.

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I love this sentiment: “Art is my constant companion, my dearest repose” Also kind of sums up the Squam ethic and the attitude of everyone there.

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This loon and its mate were quite close to the dock I was sitting on. Loons everywhere and their sad, eerie, beautiful song echoing off the hills and Rattlesnake Mountain behind the lake.

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As if workshops, the lake, knit bombs and swimming deer weren’t enough, Squam has a Saturday night craft fair with ice lanterns.

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More to come soon!!!

7 thoughts on “Squam and the Poetry of Place

  1. Reblogged this on Parris House Wool Works and commented:
    My friend and cottage mate, poet Sarah Sousa, has written a lovely initial post on her experience at Squam. Follow her blog for more of her engaging posts, and I’ll be posting about my Squam experience and my incredibly wonderful students later this week. – Beth

  2. Beautiful…..this is definitely on my list for next year. I think I’ll bring my best friend Marcee, she’s a talented artist. I’m the writer and she’s the painter. I had to laugh at your building a fire story, you rebel you!

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