I am trying to get back into a writing mode. short stories and that kind of thing.
here is one I wrote this afternoon.
A glorious spring day, blossoms scenting the air with a lovely fragrance, bumble bees sampling each bud. Lawnmower started, one pull of the rope. Gentle push, and the big wheels start to turn. Swathing a wide path through the densely populated lawn that ants refer to as a forest. Deck raised high, this is the first cut of the year, may need to mow the lawn twice this week.
The sanguine aroma of fresh cut grass. The memory it brings of childhood days pushing the reel mower to cut lawn for pocket change to go to the picture show or get an ice cream soda at the five and dime. Hated sharpening the blades on that darn mower. Would do it again.
Digging in the garden bed, the feel of dark damp earth, the hit of decay touches the senses. Down deep with the trowel, chop, chop, chop to break up the soil. Sift it through fingers. Ahh now its ready. Add in a little peat, mix it thoroughly with the fingers.
A little mound, hole in the top, push the seed into the earth. Tamp the soil gently. Repeat. A sprinkle of water completes the process. Full color blooms are too easy, let the plants sprout on their own. Don’t mark the flowers surprise can rule the day.
Throw the windows open wide, letting the breeze flow through. Achoo. Hay fever strikes here. A sniffle, watery eyes, worth it in the end.Tweet #fighting4answrs