The senses

[BelovedK]

What is the taste of winter

the sound of a fire

the smell of a long walk outside

what do you see whn you look into the sunlight directly

what do you feel when your feet hit the ground

Choose a season and write about it using as many sensual expressions as you can. Be specific with things like color...is it red/, or could it be crimson or maroon, or scarlet? use metaphors, help us discover the unfolding of your picture without telling us anything....

Have fun

[Red]

Did ya have to pick one of my aforementioned weakness as a starting assignment? I have said that using the senses is a tough one for me! This was work.

Oh, feedback. So, since I've reiterated that this is tough, be brutal! I want to know HOW the heck to get more in. Really. I feel like I'm jsut wasting everyone's time when I'm writing about the sky, and the clouds and

Then I read a well-writtend book and sure enough, it's full of the stuff. So tell me, what COULD I have done? What would you do differently?

Winter walk

I long for a big steamy mug of Constant Comment Tea, with just a touch of sugar. Inhaling deeply, I imagine the hot orange and spice steam filling my nostrils.

My ears ache. Thirty-two years ago as a teen I went out for a walk during a blizzard. It was the 1970's, and I wasn't flattening my shag hairdo with a hat. Instead, I let Jack Frost have his way with my ears and he left permanent bites. Today, I wear a fleece roller, pulled low, and still my ears burn with frostbite.

The dirt road is now a layer of ice covered with a slop of cinnamon-and-sugar colored slush. With every step I slide a bit before the special grippers I wear over my shoes bite inot the layer of ice.

The afternoons bit of sun and warmth has melted some of the cinnamon and sugar into a series of mud puddles, strung out along a rut made by many tires. I hop over these, from high spot to high spot, only the center of the road firm. In the distance I hear the whine and pitch of a fast-moving pick-up truck and I skip over the tinys hills and valleys back to the muddy safety of the roadside.

The beaten cherry-red pick up speeds over the ruts; mud sprays from under the tires. The mangy dog in the passenger seat eyes me speculatively.

The truck slows slightly. I motion with my hands, watching the spray from the wheels, for the driver to slow further; but he's busy with his own warm thoughts of home and goes by too fast.

Hot chocolate colored mud splatters my long, midnight black coat. "Men!" I mutter, as I dab and brush.

Two miles from home I turn and head back. Our few neighbors are coming home. Their chimneys bellow thick black smoke that rises to join the grey-blue cottony clouds hanging just above. I scrunching my shoulders down into my coat and pull my scarf tighter. As the wind reddens my cheeks, I head for home and a mug of hot spiced tea.

[my2girlsmama]

My Fall Passion

The greatest time when time stands still, for me, is the time of leaves crunching, crackling underfoot. Autumn, Fall, Harvest. The feel of the warmth of the summer-setting sun, saving one's face from chill. The new winds creating passion, churning the stubborn leaves from their stance in the branches, high up where they think the wind can't catch them.

The smell of the ground, the dewy grass, droplets twinkling ever-gentle from each minute strand, causing the glistening, the sparkle. Leaves scented, earthy, dirt-like, crackle crisps. The air is renewed, strong, its presence awakens us, the relaxed touch of summer passes....the time.

I taste cider, warmed and tangy on my tongue...not too sugary. I taste pumpkin seeds freshly plucked from their orange master's body, washed, set to dry, seasoned spices tickle them, warm oven toasts them to crisp pungent perfection. I taste turkey and stuffing with crunchy cranberry tart and tangy. I taste passion.

I feel the inner peace of a warm woolen sweater that fits just right, allowing just enough air to seep into my bustling bones, waking my senses, waking my soul. I feel alive. My eyes dart from child to child racing for the early orange and black shuttle that will take them to their new year of learning, fresh start, crisp clothes stiff from non-wear, giddy grins and inner nervousness abound.

I see life. I hear life. Beginnings. I hear life... coming to life, again. Time to begin, to take it all in, to find passion existing within.

[BelovedK]

Hi Red,

I think you're doing a good job with the senses...here is my feedback; First of all, I love the image of cinnamon/sugar colored slush. It really brings forth an image i can relate to.

I noticed that you repeated Cinnamon/sugar, maybe you could find a different way to say it, but bc it is so close to the other image, i think you could go with something simple like just 'slush'

I would also leave out the part about the ears aching and the shag hairdo (i remember that ) Maybe you could meld the part about jack frost into the next paragraph..I hate cutting things out, but sometimes it makes for a more powerful piece, more to the point.

I would also find a lead in to the part about the cherry red truck, it just kind of came out of nowhere, it is an important part though.

That is just my opinion

[BelovedK]

April, I loved that, it really used imagery to transport you to the scene, i felt,heard,tasted and smelled it.

The only things that threw me off was the repetition of the word 'time' in the beginning. I like to think of different ways to say the same thing...you could study the thesaurus (I love doing that) What does the ground smell like? I think the sense of smell could be expanded there

[my2girlsmama]

Thanks! I did it off the cuff last night here while nak with sick toddler in arms............

[BelovedK]

Originally Posted by my2girlsmama

Thanks! I did it off the cuff last night here while nak with sick toddler in arms............

Wow, I'm impressed

[my2girlsmama]

Originally Posted by BelovedK

Wow, I'm impressed

OMG (blushing) I'm sorry that came off snottier than hell! I never meant it as such I just meant that it wasn't so hot considering my brain was going a mile a minute and the baby was wheezing and snotty nosed and wanting to nurse and.............oh you know how it goes.

Believe me I am not that fab...I *can* be, been writing my whole life......but veeeeeeeeeeeeery rusty.

[pumpkinsmama]

I read the posts after the op so it was with an eye to how well you fufilled the assignment

Red, I like it. I loved the part about the hairdo I could picture you walking in the cold, head held high. A girl who had great hair and walked with self-possesion.

And then your description of walking years later with grippy soles changed the mental picture completely, from care-free to careful.
I think you concentrated on visual descriptions where other senses would have played in better.

And it made me think you were hungry when you wrote it...


my2girlsmama:

The new winds creating passion,

You really caught my attention with this phrase. It is the first time I remember seeing the wind described as passionate and it seems so apt!

I thought this sentence was distracting

The feel of the warmth of the summer-setting sun, saving one's face from chill

because later on you say "I", it just makes me wonder if you chose that on purpose? Or why didn't you just say "saving my face from chill"?

I agree with BelovedK

April, I loved that, it really used imagery to transport you to the scene, i felt,heard,tasted and smelled it.

[my2girlsmama]

Originally Posted by pumpkinsmama

my2girlsmama:
You really caught my attention with this phrase. It is the first time I remember seeing the wind described as passionate and it seems so apt!

I thought this sentence was distracting

because later on you say "I", it just makes me wonder if you chose that on purpose? Or why didn't you just say "saving my face from chill"?

I agree with BelovedK

Thank you. I'm not sure what I meant with that *distracting* verse LOL like I said I wasn't all there when writing it but what you said probably sounds better.