Creative Writing Prompt: Rainy Morning and Staying Put
[caption id="attachment_160" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Windy Tree Thursday"]
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How often do we ignore a change in the weather? Not open our doors and windows? I do it plenty.
One thing can change your day. The heat of the sun. Cold rain. The smell of dirt as we plant something in the garden.
I began the day carefully and slowly, questions building in my head as they do every morning. I get dressed on the second to last day of vacation and come downstairs. I'm prepared to go out jogging in the newly windy Florida day. Instead, I read a book, I lounge. I lazily take advantage of the time my university is off school.
I gave up running. A storm kicked up. The kind of windy, barely-supressed, rainy, flesh-tingling storm that opens gardens wider and makes you feel a little more alive.
I did something I haven't done since starting to revamp this house. I opened the back windows to catch the Florida storm. (We had to commit to new windows a few months ago. They were needed, thirty years of water and wear had destroyed the old ones.)
I turned the small couch around so its facing the back garden. I pulled back the drapes and opened the back door. It feels stiff and new in my hand, the factory newness reflecting off every shiny surface of it.
Now, the cold, clear air blows through the living room. The Bougainvillea tree is scattering dark purple petals over the yard. Some flower fragments have danced their way up to the closed screen door. Every time another gust of wind comes through, I can feel it all over.My nose feels it and responds accordingly. Twitch. Twitch. Breathe.
I can smell the cold and the rain through the open door. A neighbor is smoking and even though he is smoking in his yard, just next door, I can smell a much-watered down version of smoke. Every few seconds the wind pulls the sheer curtains tight against the screen and then they dance back, flapping wildly.
If I hadn't turned the couch around, I would have missed this. The smell, the cold rain. Glorious. I'm not thinking about my questions or my worries - or the how, what, why, how can I, what can I, where.
I'm here.
Creative Writing Prompt: Nature and Me
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How often do we ignore a change in the weather? Not open our doors and windows? I do it plenty.
One thing can change your day. The heat of the sun. Cold rain. The smell of dirt as we plant something in the garden.
I began the day carefully and slowly, questions building in my head as they do every morning. I get dressed on the second to last day of vacation and come downstairs. I'm prepared to go out jogging in the newly windy Florida day. Instead, I read a book, I lounge. I lazily take advantage of the time my university is off school.
I gave up running. A storm kicked up. The kind of windy, barely-supressed, rainy, flesh-tingling storm that opens gardens wider and makes you feel a little more alive.
I did something I haven't done since starting to revamp this house. I opened the back windows to catch the Florida storm. (We had to commit to new windows a few months ago. They were needed, thirty years of water and wear had destroyed the old ones.)
I turned the small couch around so its facing the back garden. I pulled back the drapes and opened the back door. It feels stiff and new in my hand, the factory newness reflecting off every shiny surface of it.
Now, the cold, clear air blows through the living room. The Bougainvillea tree is scattering dark purple petals over the yard. Some flower fragments have danced their way up to the closed screen door. Every time another gust of wind comes through, I can feel it all over.My nose feels it and responds accordingly. Twitch. Twitch. Breathe.
I can smell the cold and the rain through the open door. A neighbor is smoking and even though he is smoking in his yard, just next door, I can smell a much-watered down version of smoke. Every few seconds the wind pulls the sheer curtains tight against the screen and then they dance back, flapping wildly.
If I hadn't turned the couch around, I would have missed this. The smell, the cold rain. Glorious. I'm not thinking about my questions or my worries - or the how, what, why, how can I, what can I, where.
I'm here.
Creative Writing Prompt: Nature and Me
- When was the last time you connected with nature?
- Where were you?
- How did it feel?
- Did it change your day for the better or worse? How?
- What colors were active in nature that day? Describe them.