This week, I'm planning to give the online writing retreat over at Days of Deepening Friendship a try.
Today's post invites us to try to write with attentiveness to one of our five senses. Or 3.5, in my case, as I have no sense of smell and, therefore, little sense of taste. I am surprised by how challenging this assignment is. As I try to imagine various moments in my life upon which I might focus, it becomes apparent to me that I am intensely visual and that, nevertheless, it's difficult to write a description focusing solely on what I see. Sounds and physical sensations intrude almost immediately.
I'm going to start with a list, visual only, as an experiment in recalling a particular morning:
Blue cross-hatches of nylon lightening from the purple of the night to the sky color of early morning.
Faded blue leggings, stone-washed blue jeans, gray wool socks, white long-underwear t-shirt.
Metal tent zipper.
Damp brown leather boots, laces left untied.
Grass shiny with dew, narrow beach sodden with night, lake lapping at the shores.
Streams of marigold, tangerine, lilac and rose running the length of the horizon.
In the distance they stream in skeins just over the water and rise into Vs above the sun, hundreds of them filling the northern sky. Necks outstretched, wings beating in unison, a multitude of small dark silhouettes again the vast palest of pale blues.
~ Isle Royale Sunrise, October 1979