We’re moving outside for this week’s prompt, the last one for the month dealing with writing from the senses. My challenge today is for you to use all five senses to describe your yard. I stood outside on our four acres and wrote down my impressions.
- Taste: Nothing
- Smell: Nothing much. Maybe a little damp.
- Touch: Cold wind blowing my hair, brushing my cheeks.
- Sound: All kinds of birds singing (wish I knew bird calls better). Sound of traffic on state route.
- Sight: Green and brown grass, gray sky, bare trees, white-limbed sycamore, colorful hives, bright yellow, shed, muted-colored barn.
Here’s how those impressions inspire me:
I wiggled my toes as the moisture in the wet grass sneaked into my leaky boots, pulling my collar up around my cheeks as the wind did its best to slice them. Did I really like Dave enough to go birding when the wind chill indicated the morning should best be spent wrapped in an afghan and around a cup of tea? The birds were out in force, all kinds of trilling, chirping, and singing ricocheting from tree to tree. I had no idea what made which sound, but they all sounded deliriously happy in the biting wind and damp air.
The gray sky had turned from pearl to charcoal as the morning had grown old. I wiggled my toes again and hugged my old rain coat closer to me.
Dave darted out of the woods on the other side of the weedy clearing and motioned to me. I squished my way to him, my toes growing numb.
“You’ve got to see this,” he whispered to me. “I never expected–“
A shot made us jump.
Dave glanced back in the woods. “This is a state park. Nobody can hunt in here.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a gun. Maybe something snapped off, like a limb of a tree.”
Several more cracks, one right after the other, reached us.
Dave’s eyes widened as big as my own.
For more prompts for the senses, click here.
How you use all five senses to describe your yard and inspire and a story?
That’s great!! Here’s my attempt at the prompt!
I give the bike the millionth boost to start, and barely notice the newest splatter of mud that lands on my cheek. How much longer could this babysitting job last? Willy laughs from the thrill of splashing through his yard. Again. Everything is gray and brown today, everything except Willy’s smile. A gentle breeze picks up, and with it comes a few feathers. Willy’s family’s chickens must be molting again. Willy’s back for another boost to give him momentum when a growl freezes us both. Suddenly a strong odor of wet dog makes my hair stand on end. I turn slowly and realize we are face to face with the neighbor’s husky, and there’s a wing hanging out of his mouth.
Great!
Your descriptions really stir the imagination and the sense. What a way to end the passage! The last eight words set up so much suspense.
I can see, feel, and hear this. Love this reminder to use all my senses to write!
My attempt:
As usual our small black furball of a mutt is walking me. My shoulder jolts as she changes direction, her nose to the ground. The cold wind makes me squint, and my cozy scarf makes it hard to breathe. Still I chuckle at the cute mutt.
I love how you use “jolt” to describe the effect of the dog’s change of direction on your shoulder. It reminds me of when I used to walk my neighbor’s Weimaraner and was afraid she’d lunged and dislocate my shoulders.
Ouch! Happily our dog is small but it’s still a jolt.