Today’s challenge will involve a quick writing exercise, mainly because it’s past 7:30. What can I say? Energy is running low. Today, we had a field trip to Spring Green Gardens. We couldn’t have asked for a better day. The students explored the grounds and had a comprehensive review of their soil unit. Although not too many plants were in bloom, I enjoyed noting some I’d like to have in my yard, such as the bird’s nest spruce.
As soon as I got home, I scooped and ate some delicious taco soup from the crockpot and headed out to the yard. While the Phillies are in Florida for spring training, I’m in Northern VA for mine. As much as I wish I was shagging flies in the outfield, I’ll take yard work any day. The first stages are small and unnoticeable. Pulling weeds, dwindling the brush pile for better carrying into the woods and hauling rocks. It wouldn’t be yardwork if I wasn’t hoisting bucketloads of river rocks. It felt good to be outside, getting my body back in shape. My muscles, or lack thereof, will thank me tomorrow. No, seriously, they will. They’ve been dormant for too long.
I wish I had time to torch some weeds, though. Next time.
On with the exercise – the writing kind. I did this last year, taking three minutes to write anything that came to mind. I had a general idea of what I wanted to write, but it was primarily off-the-cuff. However, those hundred words or so have stuck with me. I alluded to a dystopian or apocalyptic world – which typically doesn’t interest me. But it opened my mind.
A free-write exercise can lead to new ideas, but the best thing about it is it can’t be criticized. At all. There’s no right or wrong. No requirements.
Here it goes:
And 3-2-1…
The long lane didn’t seem as long. I’ve been dreaming of my return for years, looking forward to the subtle winds in the driveway curving around garden beds and towering oaks that scratched the bottom of the sky. I slowed to a crawl and rolled down the window. The squeak of the engine, or some ungodly expensive mechanism, kept me from enjoying the moment. I slowed. Stopped. And just listened. It was foreign and familiar at the same time. The scent of the blooms was still as sweet as honey on Mom’s toast she gave me for a bedtime snack. But there was an aberration, something that gave me chills. As I kept moving, the colors I expected to see weren’t there, as if abandoned and taken over by age and grayness.
I don’t love this as much as the one last year. But I like the imagery (abandoned color) and am curious about why this person is returning. Anticipation of arriving and taking his time getting there are interesting contrasts.
Dream Out Loud,
rg
good exercise - both physically and mentally! I should try more of both ;-)