What Inspires You?
Do you have an inspiring photo of one of Wisconsin’s special places? Maybe an essay or poem you wrote about a special place you go to relax on the weekend with your family? If you have an inspiring artwork, written piece, or picture of a special place in Wisconsin, we invite you to share it with us. From now through September 10th we will be accepting submissions for our ‘What inspires You?’ competition.
Why? We need your help!
We need your help showing people why Wisconsin’s special places are so important and why we are in the business of protecting them. Entries we receive will be used to create a conservation slide-show story that will be featured on the front page of our website and used to communicate the impact of special, protected places.
One overall winner will be announced on September 11th and will win a $100 gift certificate toward any of Dillman’s Artistic Workshop Retreats, to be used by Oct. 31, 2013. Dillman’s Bay Resort has hosted over 10,000 students in the Northwoods of Wisconsin for the last 35 years at their artistic workshops. For the 2013 season, Dillman’s offers over 40 nationally-known art instructors allowing for complete immersion into your favorite medium - be it poetry, quilting, flute, watercolor, acrylic or something else.
To enter the contest simply:
-comment below with your poem, short story or link to a piece you’ve written online
-or-
-email your longer stories and pictures to [email protected]
We can’t wait to see all of the Wisconsin inspiration you have to share with us!
Mapping the Marquette County Hill
On the forty acres of sandy hill, century-aged,
remnant-sown, John Muir’s boyhood footprints
crossed the sand blow, following bees, or so
I like to think; though it might have been only
the crest of the hill he crossed, through the oak,
or the turkeyfoot and little bluestem ranks
that wave there now. Small orchids, earthstars,
goldenrod and blazing star were found in the sand
blow, and under our shelter at the top of the hill
our own sons dug in the dirt, hammered nails,
grew to build their own skateboard ramp and hang
in the sky like the hawk’s brief survey. And here’s
the path I wandered with my field guide, learning
names—ten new species flowering every week—
here’s the place the hairy puccoon bloomed, there
the pussytoe patch, the hawkweed acres;
and here’s the place we put the bench, sightline
into Wisconsin thunderstorms, moving opposite
to lower clouds, and here’s the east toward which
the bluestems bowed; its coordinates include
the firepit—marked ‘kitchen’, on our map, the path
through the woods to the three-sided outhouse,
the other path to back bedroom—Adirondack
shelter where we slept to the insistent voices
of the whipperwills, the bark of fox and coyote.
Mark the fox—it had a den in the woods. And mark
the whipperwills—we saw one once on a limb,
its legs so weak you could scarcely see them;
and mark the trail where the ladies-slippers bloomed,
past the outhouse. Mark the locust woods to the west,
oak and hickory woods to north; question mark
for where the owl lived, nightly questioning us. Here
we found the webs of the writing and funnel
spiders, and here the walking-stick. Say that this
was the map of our days. Say that we too walked
here once, if the barred owl asks you.
Originally appeared in The Cortland Review.