I am in the middle of doing a writing course by Rachel Devenish Ford called Write From the Heart. Right now we are practicing noticing, and jotting it down. All those tiny sights and sounds around us, as well as the big ones. They all make up life, and I decided it might be fun to do it here. It’s not going to be profound, but it is a good thing for me to do in these days when my default mode is creeping about with a cup of tea, trying to look productive. Here’s yesterday’s twenty minutes of observing.

First thing I look at the forecast, and it is too dismal for my soul to bear. Ten solid days of clouds. I know in my head that it can change daily, but my heart is dismayed.

I arrange a bright quilt on the back of a chair, fill the teakettle, light candles all through the house, and sit down to write, far away from my phone.

A spoon scrapes a cereal bowl, and pages turn as the breakfast eater reads while she eats Life.

My son reads quotes from a Babylon Bee article and mutters that this leftover coffee tastes like old tires, but he drinks it anyway.

The parakeets chirp shrill good mornings as the first bit of light filters into the schoolroom upstairs.

Tires crunch on the lane as my son heads off to work; the tracks on the lane are frozen this morning, an improvement on the squelching mud of the past week.

I glance out the window, see the chickens in the slight glow of the light in their coop, scratching, scratching through the straw. I am hopeful that the fake daylight will urge them to greater egg production.

The world outside is lightening slowly, but monochrome. Trees hold their undressed limbs to the sky, and I can tell by their bones that this one is an oak and that one is a cherry, and the other one is a walnut.

Only the tin signs on my husband’s shop reflect any color: “Pepsi, the taste that beats the others cold,” and “Atlantic Motor Oil,” and the neon yellow “No Outlet.”

My candy cane tea is brewed just right. I pair it with a spiced raisin cookie, iced on top. I smell the cardamom that I ground in my daughter’s mortar and pestle. A morsel of sweet.

10 thoughts on “Noticing

  1. I just finished my daily assignment for the same writing course. 😉 Checked my email and saw this post, then jotted down a few additions to my “favorite word list”. Thank you for the inspiration!

  2. I love this and how delightful it would be if your descriptive thoughts were in the pages of a book😊

  3. Your doleful winter musings resonate with me. I’m doing 500 piece puzzles for therapy. Tonight the wind is blowing and gusting fiercely. Makes me so thankful for a warm house and a cozy bed. We’ll soldier on until the sun shines warm and new life comes again. But mostly it will just look like getting up in the morning and doing the next right thing. Blessings to you

    1. Winter is such a good time to practice faithfulness, isn’t it? I really think it’s ok to be extra slow, a rhythm built into the seasons, while we do the next right thing. 😘

  4. Oh I feel sorry that you are not doing winter properly! You can bask in the cold and snow, drink it in, open the curtains and peep out into the cold wintry morning and shudder with delicious delight at the thought of having winter a bit longer,indulging a bit of laziness, remembering how very busy you are in the middle of summer and let a shiver of anticipation pass over you as you think about the day before you!
    Have you ever fed your hens red pepper in their water or feed? They are colder inside and the pepper warms them and enables them to lay more eggs. That’s what we used to do!

    1. Oh dear Aunty. I’m fascinated by how much you KY transplants love our winter. It’s been 37 winters for me since I left Kentucky, and one for you. 🥰 I don’t mind cold and snow. It’s the tunnel of grey days that can last until May that takes me down. But you’re right, there are ways to cope.

      1. My dear, do make sure you are taking 5,000 units of Vit. D and get the kind that also has K2 with it,every day! I imagine your body is craving it!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s