a year in the noise — 2027 wall calendar

twelve months. some loud, some quiet. all of them survived. A calendar for bodies that keep their own weather. Each month pairs a hand-engraved illustration with a short poem about living through the year with chronic illness, written for the Australian seasons. It runs from the heavy heat of January, through winter in the joints, to the end of the year you weren’t sure you’d reach. January, the heat: the air sits on my chest like it pays rent. i move slow. slow is still moving. February, the storm: my bones heard the storm before the sky did. March, the relief: the heat let go of me today. i didn’t trust it. i sat in it anyway. April, the shedding: the trees let go and nobody calls them lazy. maybe i can rest too. May, the first chill: everyone’s catching something. i’ve been catching it all year. June, the long night: the dark comes at five now. it sits with me like it knows the way. July, the ache: the cold found every joint i forgot i had. i counted my spoons twice. August, the hibernation: i stayed in again. not hiding. wintering. September, the bloom: everything is blooming. my body took it personally. October, the lost hour: they moved the clocks. my body didn’t get the memo. November, the expectation: the sun came back and everyone asked why i didn’t. December, the gathering: i made it to the end of the year. that’s the whole poem. Made to be used, not just hung Every month is designed for tracking the things that are hard to say out loud: a “mark your days” key for flares, good days, in-between days, appointments, rest days and meds a circle in every day to mark with the key, plus five spoon dots for the energy each day costs monthly tallies for flares, good days and rest days space for appointments, meds and refills due, and one thing that helped a seasonal “forecast” on every page, like pressure dropping · storms in the bones Australian public holidays marked, with weeks starting on Monday For the chronically ill, the spoonies, the weather-sensitive and anyone whose body has its own forecast. wear the static. wear it loud. Details: 2027 wall calendar, 11 × 17 in 14 pages: cover, 12 months Fine-line engraving illustrations in black, white and one flash of safety orange Paper pages bound with a silver-colour metal wire Paper weight: 8 oz/yd² (271 g/m²)