My hands tremble slightly in anticipation as I gently press my fingers on the electronic detector and wait for it to read my prints. I glance over my shoulder making sure I have not been followed then quietly slip past the soundproof door that will separate me from a world of interuptions for the next few hours.
A dark mahogany desk serves as the command center for my oasis. I walk past it to the supple leather lounger where a freshly brewed cup of hazelnut coffee awaits me. With my favorite pen and notebook, I settle down and announce “Maui”
The LED wall illuminates and I’m on Kaanapali Beach in , listening to the swoosh of the ocean as I watch a magnificent sunset.
From the rhythm of my pen a poem spills forth.
Come walk with me on shifting sands
Along my Maui shores
Come find the peace within yourself
That leaves you wanting more
The gentle flow of crashing waves
Will mesmerize your heart
The azure skies, the gentle breeze
You’ll never want to part
The tide will rise to greet you there
To cleanse your weary soul
The lofty palms will wave to you
And whisper “Please don’t go”
I recite it to Margie, my faithful genius who resides somewhere within the black laptop, and she records my words with precision.
“Bryce” I command and the wall changes to reveal the colorful hoodoos in the Utah National Park that appeared like chess pieces throughout the massive canyon.
Once again the movement of my hand results in words spread across an empty canvas as a creative piece takes form. Nearly an hour has passed and I realize I must move on, lest I will fail to complete my journey.
“Colorado” I sigh as I think about the recent trip. There were not enough hours to journal my adventures while at Keystone. Perhaps a glance at one of the magnificent mountain scenes will refresh my memory enough to capture some lingering thoughts
Oh, to have a perfect writing room. Must I leave?
It’s funny how a thought sticks in your mind until it finds its way into a post. This weekend, my daughter and I made baskets while at Girl Scout Camp Tuckaho http://www.girlscoutsem.org/Programs/Camp/Camp-Tuckaho.aspx. We’ve both been involved in Girl Scouts since 1977 and as a treat, each year about nearly 100 adult volunteers from two districts come together to share talents, laughter and treasured memories with one another.
One of the many baskets displayed by our instructor, Pat Vogel, http://www.bittersweetbasketsandsupply.com/ was titled Bountiful Basket and it made its way into our conversations enough times that it settled in my brain. I returned home late Sunday evening and dragged myself into bed. (Hey, weaving baskets for hours on end and walking across icy fields to get from lodge to lodge was hard work!) Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the laundry basket bursting at the seems with clothes that needed washing. I smiled and decided to wait until morning to tackle that chore.
My thoughts continued to turn to bountiful baskets as I rested my still tender fingers against my disgustingly bloated stomach. Seemed I overfilled the bread basket that occupies the area where I used to have a waist. One thing for sure, we always eat well while at any Girl Scout function; it goes hand to hand, or maybe I should say mouth, with a bunch of women and fresh country air.
As I tried to fall asleep, I realized that although my body was worn, my mind was traveling at a high rate of speed. It wasn’t long before I found myself sitting in front of my laptop. Why? I had recevied the most bountiful blessing on Friday when my last post, Rock, Paper, Laptop, was Freshly Pressed. It was the first time for me and I was overwhelmed by the response. By the time I returned on Sunday, more than 1500 fellow bloggers had viewed my post and many of them took the time to hit the “like” button and/or leave a comment. What an extraordinary event!
To all those who took the time to read my post, write a comment, put a smile on my face with the click of button, or follow my blog, thank you, thank you, thank you! I hope all of you have bountiful baskets filled with great things this week.
As an author and poet, I often am challenged to find the perfect adjective to stir the imagination or bring life to a scene. Whether I resort to looking at a box of crayons for inspiration or scan my reference list, I am humbled and struggle to imitate the natural world as it surrounds me.
I browsed my archive of photographs searching for memorable colorful descriptions to share with other bloggers. After studying a snapshot, I closed my eyes and tried to envision the picture, focusing on the color details.
It took a few attempts to filter out the distraction of trying to describe the item in the photo. It is an exercise that I will use in the future when I need to draw my reader into a Splash of Color. So now I challenge you to do the same and provide me with your vision for the two photos below that do not have a caption.
Black stained glass graces the tangerine wings that rest upon mossy green foliage while hints of dandelion yellow tickle about
Inspiration is essential to writing passionately. Soon I’ll be nestled in this rugged swing, listening to a nearby babbling brook, greeting the crisp morning chill as I put pen to paper and let my imagination flow.
Not only will I have the perfect inspiration, I’ll be visiting family. The hours of endless chatter and laughter are priceless. Georgia’s on my mind and life is good.
Where do you find inspiration?
I have always proclaimed my ineptness when it comes to computers and their infinite ability to make me feel ignorant, though never more than through this week’s efforts to the weekly writing challenge – And Now For Something Completely different.
How can it be so difficult to insert more than one picuture into a post? It’s not like my portable einstein gives me a clue as to what I’m doing wrong- well, perhapps it does, but it is in a foreign techinical language that I have yet to master.
Still, I am a hopeful person, so I persist.
Perhaps my theme is designed to hold only one photo. I may be on to something. Let me struggle for another two days and see if I can get the grasp of this. Oh look! Third picture and I successfully changed positions. Thank you new theme!!
Please tell me I am not the only one who struggles to make sense out of something that was designed to be so simplel I need some support and encouragement. Can an old dog learn new tricks or will I remain stuck in the paper and pen world until I fade away?
Drops of golden petals raining down
Blanketing faded emarald blades
Melancholy thoughts stir
My Old Friend
You were my friend, you beckoned me
You listened to my pain
You caught my tears, you dried them up
You were my shelter in the rain
Not even once did you turn away
Nor secret did you tell
You listened to my tender thoughts
You knew me oh, so well
The thought of you would comfort me
When we were far away
I’d close my eyes and you’d be there
In your arms I longed to stay
Too young to know our time would end
We’d part our ways too soon
Now cherished memories are all I have
Beneath the harvest moon.