Prompt 7

 What have you learned about yourself, about your relationship to the physical world, about yourself as a writer over the term? How might your experiences affect your future writings?

Well, I've found that I like nature just slightly more than I thought I did when I began this class. I still much prefer to view nature through my windows, but when I do interact with the outside world, I am able to see connections I never noticed before. One thing I've done with all of my writing this semester (and not just for this class) is explore how fear and anxiety color the way I see and interact with the world. For the most part, I've enjoyed looking at how my antagonist relationship with nature is actually due to my fear of nature. At the same time, I've found niches that actually comfort me, rather than worry me. It was illuminating and rather unexpected, as I thought I'd spend most of the blogs writing about how nature was ruining my life.

That being said, I'm not so sure that I feel any closer to my particular place, or to any one natural place. I'd say I'm more open to finding the good things in a particular place. I found that the prompts got me thinking about place, something I often forget about and take for granted. I'll be more likely to pay attention to particulars and description, and look for the little things that I can connect with (like a camelback cricket becoming my nemesis, for example). The small things can do a lot of work if you let them. :)

Place #7

It is hot outside today--82 degrees!--and I am sitting in my back yard in my swimsuit, trying to tan after doing some laundry. The empty house next door got its grass cut today, so the air smells like gasoline and grass. It's dry, too, and the grass is prickly on my bare feet.

Sadie came out with me, and sniffed around for a few seconds before plopping down in the sun--something she rarely does in the back yard, usually preferring the softer carpet inside. I put some water out for her, but she just sniffs at it and walks away, panting. I've laid out a blanket for my feet (protection against the pricklies), and I've set my beach chair to lean me back just a bit. I'm wearing my sunglasses, and it is hot enough that they are already sliding down my nose, and sweat is lining my face, even though I've really only been out for about three minutes.

I'm suddenly aware of screaming from the yard behind mine. I cannot see over the fence I have, but it sounds like two young kids, one definite girl. The screaming couldn't have just started, but I don't remember hearing it before. Surprisingly, I do not hear any lawn mowers or edgers or leaf blowers.

The tree in the other neighbor's yard keeps moving in a wind that I cannot feel. The leaves are flipped a bit at the top of the tree, a sign I always took to mean it was about to rain. This morning it looked like it might, but now the sky is full of fluff and blue and I'm not too sure we'll get rain.

Sadie makes a noise somewhere between a grunt and a yawn and gets up. She keeps looking up at the sky, and I wonder why. Is she hearing something I don't? Is she amazed at the sun? Are there birds circling that I cannot see? I can hear some, the usual songbirds, I guess. She wanders around for a while, and keeps going to the water bowl without drinking anything. She'll go to the shade and stand, and then go to the sunny spot and stand. This bothers me. I am trying to relax, but every time she moves the lead she is on wraps around my chair, and then she cries because she is tangled up. I unhook her.

Every few minutes a small breeze comes through. It feels cool and good and I take a deep breath each time. The air doesn't smell any different. I was hoping someone would be having a cook out, or grilling something up, but the air is just grass and heat.

Now every time Sadie moves I get nervous she is going to take off and run. We cannot win, and it looks like my plan to sit and relax is not going very well. I snap my fingers and call her over; she comes languidly, moving in slow motion. The heat is slowing her down. This is good. If she takes off, I will be able to catch her. Hopefully. She finally plops down in the sunny grassy spot and seems content to sit for a few.

It is nice to not have the annoying lawn mower and leaf blower sounds as I sit here. There aren't many cars going by either, so all the noises I hear are natural--the wind in the leaves, the kids screaming across the yard, the birds tweeting and singing around, the chair scrunching each time I move one way or another. A big bumblebee comes near my head every so often, and I prefer to watch its shadow dance around my head than look up at it and be blinded by the sun. The hum makes me nervous--it's awfully close to my head!--but I keep it cool and manage to stay in my chair.

We sit like this for a while, Sadie and I. Every so often Sadie moves and I tense, but she settles herself back down--sometimes in the shade, sometimes next to me--and we both relax again. When I feel the raw skin on my knee start to tingle, I decide it's time to go in. Sadie, usually running from in to out or out to in, ambles to the door and stands with her front paws right on the door track. She yawns, and goes up to my bed to lay in my fresh-from-the-dryer laundry.

Prompt #6

A few years ago, my friend British Beth invited me to go with her family to Disney World over Christmas vacation. I went, and we had a blast. It was a tough week, though, and when we ended up at the beach toward the end of the week, British and I were worn out and starting to get snippy with each other, a common problem among people who are born loners and forced to spend a week together is a very small shared space. Our hotel suites were right on the beach, though, so after we were settled in we decided on a walk.

It sounded like a lovely idea. I always remember that the beach smells so good, and that I love the sound of the crashing waves, and the feel of the water going over my feet. I forget that sand gets everywhere, and once I'm wet the sand will then stick to me everywhere, and the sand is hot, and it hurts my knees to walk it in for long periods. I forget that crabs build little nests or something and if you kick one the crabs will try to attack your toes. That wonderful smell is actually salt and decay. The wind can be fierce and kick the sand into your face. There's nowhere to pee unless you go out into the water. There are jellyfish. And regular fish. And sharks. (Well, maybe not sharks).

Luckily, it was later in the day, and the sun was setting, so the sand wasn't too hot. I wore sandals that I could remove, so I was able to bury my feet in the sand if I needed to and not worry about getting sand in my shoes. There was a breeze, but just a light one. There was a boardwalk almost up to the water. It was winter, off season for jellyfish, and our patch of beach was dead-thing-free. Few people were still there, so we had a patch of beach to ourselves.

British and I walked together for a little bit, but we pulled away from each other after a while, looking at shells or just sitting and staring. The sun was really starting to set, and the sky was turning so many different shades of pink and red and orange and blue and purple. I decided to just stand for a bit, and watch the water, and the sun, and listen to the ocean, and breath in the air.

The breeze stayed the same. The air got a little cooler, but it was still comfortable. I stood with my feet in enough of the waves that the water would sometimes crash up to my calves, maybe my knees, but usually stayed down around my ankles. I let my feet sink into the sand, feeling the wet slimy grimy bits get in between my toes and massage my heels. The air smelled like salt, or like Dover after a rain storm. There were very few people on the beach, and it was quiet except for the occasional seagull or jet speeder out on the ocean. The waves crashed in and out in a rhythm that was exciting, soothing, and unpredictable.

I closed my eyes and felt the sun on my face. I found a moment of calm.

In that moment, I felt a peace that I only felt once before, at a midnight retreat at my church. Standing in the water I found that I wasn't worrying, or thinking about tomorrow, or what I would order at dinner, or wondering if I had eaten too quickly or too much at lunch, or if I should repack for the third time, or what I should have for the first day of school when we got back from the break, or if my mother was really OK that I was missing her birthday, and if Dad was angry I'd spent the holiday away from home. I wasn't analyzing everything that British said to see if she was upset with her mother, or her father, or me, or trying to find the perfect way to be the buffer between them all, the perfect guest and hostess all in one. I wasn't wondering was Marie meant when she said, "Well, do all Americans take Disney studies at school?" because even though she clearly meant it as a joke, was she secretly saying I was being too controlling in the park, and should I have let us wander around lost instead of finding a map and directing us along? Are the asthma attacks I keep having asthma or am I dying of bronchitis? Should I take the medicine when we get back to the room, knowing that it is going to make me sleepy, but knowing that we have dinner to go to yet? Can I listen to my headphones when I get back without being rude? What if there are jelly fish in this sand and I get stung? What if we get lost on the beach? What if we get locked out of our hotel? What if Mom doesn't like the present I got her? What if Tony and Marie need us while we're out here? What if...?

I was listening to the waves, and feeling the sun on my face, and breathing deeply.

I wanted to find a way to show my appreciation for the moment, but quietly. It wouldn't do to run up to someone and say "I just found peace with my lord and saviour! Come join me!" That's not how the moment presented itself, and that wasn't the purpose of the moment, anyway. It would ruin it to share it in such an ungraceful and unpeaceful way.

I had found some shells earlier on the trip, and I had them in my hand. I took a few steps away from the waves, so the sand was still went but not in the surf. I took a shell and wrote Be still, and know that I am... in the sand, and set the shells around it.

It would disappear in a while, the shells taken back into the ocean, the words filled in when the tide came back. But it was there for a while. And so was I.

Place Entry 6

I've been stuck inside. I had a massive allergic reaction to medication last week, and now I am laid up due to knee surgery. So these last two weeks, I've gotten to experience nature in my favorite way: through a window. :)

Sadie likes it. For the first time in a while, she is out of her crate during the day, during the week, and the sun shines through the back window almost all day. She follows it as it arcs across my floor, lazing around. She almost never sleeps in front of me, and so it is a treat for me as well. She makes little noises every so often, and jerks her legs. I like to pretend she is chasing the rabbits from the back yard in her dreams. I hooked her up to a long lead and let her outside last week, so she could laze against the warm ground. She sat at the door and cried until I let her back in. She promptly curled up on the carpet, in the sun.

The rabbits from the back yard have been enjoying the weather as well. There seem to be more of them now, as tends to happen, I guess. I counted three or four outside by the bushes, and another one was sitting right next to my car in the front yard. I stood at the door on my crutches for a few minutes, and it watched me out of the corner of its eye, little nose twitching. It was getting somewhat late, and was a little dark, and it seemed really chill. We looked at each other for a while, and then I shut the front door and hobbled back to my recliner.

Somehow, Sadie missed that rabbit, but saw the cat two yards over and went nuts at the window for a good 20 minutes. When the cat cut through the back yard a little while later, Sadie leaned on her hind legs and whined.

There was a squirrel that was climbing on my fence for about 20 minutes. It sat there on top, not moving very much, which I think is a feat for a squirrel. It was just kind of enjoying the sun and the view, i guess, since . No birds came to bother it, and Sadie didn't seem to mind it there. I dozed off, and when I woke up, it was gone.

The people are starting to come out of hibernation, too. All week I have heard lawn mowers and leaf blowers going, an almost constant background noise. My lawn, so painstakingly cut two Fridays ago, is almost a jungle again. I can see those purple things sticking up in the dip in my lawn, and some dandelions are sprouting as well. On Sunday someone knocked at my door and offered to mow my lawn for $20. I almost took them up on it, but I noticed they didn't have a lawn mower with them, and decided it was a scam.

I've been woken by birds every morning for the last two weeks. I've slept downstairs, in my recliner, and this morning I got to see the sky change from pitch black to streaks of pink to full on blue with puffy white clouds. Today my dad will mow my lawn. This is my kind of nature.