Author Archives: solveighanson

About solveighanson

I'm a (late) thirtysomething Plant Breeding Ph.D. student, daughter / sister / auntie, vegetable fan, yogi, sometime cyclist, and enthusiastic if infrequent baker. I started this blog in the summer of 2010 to trace my recovery from a pelvic fracture sustained in a cycling accident. That healing process was truly transformative, and since then I seem to have written mostly about the transformations that have followed. And hence the title of the blog: Don't call me a butterfly, because I'm not done changing.

World emoji day: Not a haiku

Finally a holiday Without enforced emotion Feel something anything Just make it cute Even the mad faces Anguished faces Laugh-with-tear exasperated faces Are cute in their suffering Language could unify us We could realize that because We all understand anger … Continue reading

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Eye witness

That awning there is too small to stand under a slowly rusting unibrow for four lined-up-front-tooth-style windows so maybe the awning is more a mustache the teeth enjoy a dry upper lip An utterly missable building rectangular brick façade aforementioned … Continue reading

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A life handwritten

This tribute was given at the funeral service held on Friday, December 29, 2017  for my Grandma, Maxine Dimick. It’s a gift to be in your company this morning, to celebrate the life of my Grandma, Maxine Dimick. As many … Continue reading

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I was mocked for buying the number two coffee cone Justifiably perhaps Who needs so little coffee? A six ounce cup is but a tease Like pulling back a wind up car Just until the wheels engage It skitters forward … Continue reading

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Back from the woods

As some of you know, I made the first part of Spring Break into a solo retreat at a semi-primitive cabin along the Appalachian Trail in Northern Virginia. It was wonderful. I hiked; I read; I wrote; I sat; I … Continue reading

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Before the march

The prospect of the march doesn’t make me hopeful not eager for catharsis for righteous rage It makes me knotted like I felt in church when they gave me things to say whether or not I meant them Church was … Continue reading


A day of midlife birth

Today was my birthday. On this cloudy, drizzly, clammy-raw day, I turned 38. As of now, ninety-nine people have posted well wishes on my Facebook timeline. I feel the hope in their multiple exclamation points that I might drop my … Continue reading

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