Weekly Writing Prompt No. 68. Hello lovely people and thank you for a. opening this email and b. joining me for my weekly writing prompt. These are my attempts at exercising my creative muscles, and I hope they help you exercise yours too.
We were too far from the Earth. This sun was not ours. The seeds we had brought with us would not develop. We had to learn new ways, keep the faith we could nurture and support our group, even though the plants rotted from root to leaf and the hoped for fruit would not form on the dried up branch.
There was only one type of seed remaining. We were fortunate it was one that would grow anywhere given enough water and oxygen.
And soon, there they were: bright gold turning their many heads to the new sun, ready and ripe for us to pick.
Thank you, Linda. The reference to dandelion was a shock reaction to your comment about the loss of the word from the children's OED and also an homage to that great sci-fi short story writer, Ray Bradbury.
Today’s the day! I said as I reached for the alarm clock; knocking my WATER over. I clambered out of bed. Opened the curtains to a blue sky and warm SUN. Opened the window to let in the new day’s OXYGEN. I thought I’d better take a LEAF out of Sal’s book and wear something appropriate. I’d ROOT around for a smart suit that would SUPPORT my attempt at looking the part for the next step up. I’d PICK an outfit that would PLANT the idea in their heads that they could have FAITH in me. That I would LEARN the ropes quick smart. That I knew I could GROW and DEVELOP given half a chance. I’d worked at this BRANCH for more than long enough now. I just knew that I would NURTURE this new SEED of responsibility if they’d only give it to me this time - instead of sending me crashing down to EARTH like the last two times… So. Best foot forward. Here goes everything.
I love the magnificent expanse of the small here, Lesley. The beautiful focus. And the juxtaposition of human and natural activity, written as though nothing else mattered or even existed.
Listening to the rain and looking at the wall. I’m longing for sun and my pick of all the walking routes around this coast…but tonight, I’m learning to be patient, to grow slowly. I’m learning to have faith, to nurture my seedling trust. I’m looking at a plant I cannot name, that has taken root in earth of its own creation, between the slates that cap that wall. Into the crevices, slender radicles, twist and branch to worm their way between deeper stones and find their holdfast. Green of leaf, and pale rose-colour bloom, it survives on coastal oxygen and rainwater. A stray seed, wind-blown or bird-dropped, develops randomly, with only this white-painted wall for support: its head-start towards the light above the shadows of the alley.
This has shades of the world we are living in at the present moment Lesley - the slender radicles, twisting and branching to find their holdfast could very easily have been a reference to those of us who stand and bend in the winds of change.
No such thing as weeds, just wild flowers. I speak as one in relationship with a garden that has the upper hand. Or maybe I'm just embedded with the enemy. :)
Relationship sounds so more empowered, Lesley. Though em-flower-bedded could be more appropriate here! 😆 May your wild garden give you infinite inspiration 🌱☘️🪻
I think that's a like, although it is weeds ... so I'm not too sure. And you did well considering I forgot to add the word square (oops!) and thanks for the reminder ... !
Here goes with a brief sci-fi flash:
We were too far from the Earth. This sun was not ours. The seeds we had brought with us would not develop. We had to learn new ways, keep the faith we could nurture and support our group, even though the plants rotted from root to leaf and the hoped for fruit would not form on the dried up branch.
There was only one type of seed remaining. We were fortunate it was one that would grow anywhere given enough water and oxygen.
And soon, there they were: bright gold turning their many heads to the new sun, ready and ripe for us to pick.
“Dandelion wine, anyone?”
I love an ending that makes me chuckle, especially when I contemplate the dandelion's in my garden and on the drive - thanks Denarii.
Thank you, Linda. The reference to dandelion was a shock reaction to your comment about the loss of the word from the children's OED and also an homage to that great sci-fi short story writer, Ray Bradbury.
Gosh, it's a long time since I read any Ray Bradbury - maybe I might delve back into some sci-fi this summer!
Ooh, that delicious juxtaposition of expected and surprise! 😊
Sweet - right up until that last line, I had a different idea of the one seeds that would grow!
Today’s the day! I said as I reached for the alarm clock; knocking my WATER over. I clambered out of bed. Opened the curtains to a blue sky and warm SUN. Opened the window to let in the new day’s OXYGEN. I thought I’d better take a LEAF out of Sal’s book and wear something appropriate. I’d ROOT around for a smart suit that would SUPPORT my attempt at looking the part for the next step up. I’d PICK an outfit that would PLANT the idea in their heads that they could have FAITH in me. That I would LEARN the ropes quick smart. That I knew I could GROW and DEVELOP given half a chance. I’d worked at this BRANCH for more than long enough now. I just knew that I would NURTURE this new SEED of responsibility if they’d only give it to me this time - instead of sending me crashing down to EARTH like the last two times… So. Best foot forward. Here goes everything.
Oh gosh, I hope you got the job Penny ;-) ;-) And what an excellent way to translate the prompt - it was definitely not what I expected at all.
Thanks Linda. x
I love the magnificent expanse of the small here, Lesley. The beautiful focus. And the juxtaposition of human and natural activity, written as though nothing else mattered or even existed.
Oh Sue, thank you so much. "Written as though nothing else mattered or even existed". Wow. I'm not sure there can be a greater compliment.
Listening to the rain and looking at the wall. I’m longing for sun and my pick of all the walking routes around this coast…but tonight, I’m learning to be patient, to grow slowly. I’m learning to have faith, to nurture my seedling trust. I’m looking at a plant I cannot name, that has taken root in earth of its own creation, between the slates that cap that wall. Into the crevices, slender radicles, twist and branch to worm their way between deeper stones and find their holdfast. Green of leaf, and pale rose-colour bloom, it survives on coastal oxygen and rainwater. A stray seed, wind-blown or bird-dropped, develops randomly, with only this white-painted wall for support: its head-start towards the light above the shadows of the alley.
This has shades of the world we are living in at the present moment Lesley - the slender radicles, twisting and branching to find their holdfast could very easily have been a reference to those of us who stand and bend in the winds of change.
Creative seeds can be like weeds:
in the right place, nuture; in the wrong one, uproot.
One is the future; the other, just boot!
I am desperately trying to do some creative gardening right now: those weeds are pretty invasive at the mo 🤣
No such thing as weeds, just wild flowers. I speak as one in relationship with a garden that has the upper hand. Or maybe I'm just embedded with the enemy. :)
Relationship sounds so more empowered, Lesley. Though em-flower-bedded could be more appropriate here! 😆 May your wild garden give you infinite inspiration 🌱☘️🪻
I think that's a like, although it is weeds ... so I'm not too sure. And you did well considering I forgot to add the word square (oops!) and thanks for the reminder ... !