Someone landed on my blog the other day when they searched for “Hoosier cabinet.”
I doubt they found what they were looking for. That short little post was written in response to L.L. Barkat’s suggested writing exercise from God in the Yard to play with words.
In the section on “Habits” from her newest book, Rumors of Water, she asks, “Do you cultivate your wild side?”
I stop to wonder what happened to my wild side. Or even if I ever had one. If so, I think it’s as overgrown with
weeds wildflowers as my ex-garden.
I think I’ve grown too serious. Don’t play enough.
Our neighbor stopped and asked my husband if I wanted that little plot tilled up this year. Dennis told him probably not. That chances are I wouldn’t have time to tend it. Kind of one of those siphon things L.L. talks about–something that needs to be released for a time.
That means there might not be any words about sun-warmed tomato juice running down my chin or snakes slithering between my feet.
But I still have my camera.
And plenty of drain-clog episodes. (You’ll have to read the book.)
I try too hard
sometimes often to squeeze out words. And lately I’ve gotten away from the habit of daily free-flow writing.
John Gardener, author of The Art of Fiction, notes that when we begin describing things, even seemingly unimportant things, we find the questions we may need to be asking in our writing, as well as the possible answers. Rumors of Water, p. 78.
It’s one way to cultivate our creative center.
Kind of like I did with the Hoosier.
The sun’s shining. I step outside and chide the woodchuck who’s stealing sunflower seeds from under the bird feeder. He runs under the porch. A faint scent of skunk wafts from (inside?) the garage, and I’m grateful for the Snuggle fragrance hanging on the breeze. I wander out to the so-called garden plot and wonder if maybe I could manage to take care of it this year.
It’s so nice out, though, I think I might drag the clothes out of the dryer and hang them out.
Then I remember a poem I wrote about a year and a half ago.
All lined up
dressed to the T’s
shoulder to shoulder
hip to hip
and clip to clip
on vinyl pews
swaying with the spirit
and waving praises
in hallelujah colors.
Lyla Lindquist is leading a discussion on Rumors of Water over at Tweetspeak Poetry. Come join us.
L.L. Barkat says
love that photo; are you always hanging my things on that clothesline of yours? 🙂
S. Etole says
That woodchuck may be the source of that odor. I had always thought it was skunk, too, but the other day the woodchuck was under my bird feeder and the odor lingered.
You have such a creative way with words … even when hanging on the line.
When you said “You’ll have to read the book” I thought you meant the book you’re writing…. then I thought you meant “Rumors of Water”…
Think I’ll prophesy that you meant both — can’t wait to read yours!!!
kd sullivan says
Okay…I officially need to get this book…it was you, you know who encouraged me to read Ann’s. I am changed because of it. Excited!
Carol J. Garvin says
Your poem brings to mind the fragrance of breeze-freshened, sun-dried laundry! I haven’t done any free writing for a while now. I suppose my journalling qualifies, but it isn’t often descriptive… just a litany of random thoughts. I guess they help stimulate more “wild” thoughts, although there hasn’t been much “writing with wild abandon” lately.
Thinking of “wild” things reminds me of how much I would love a meadow garden full of wildflowers. I don’t have enough sunshine (or a meadow) here to accommodate that dream. It’s just another random thought. 🙂