Written for OLWG #31
It’s warm out, maybe 60O . I pause and look at my cane, I consider, but ultimately decide to forego that crutch this morning. I feel pretty good and I’m in no hurry. My intended path is flat, should be OK.
I step out the door and glance around, take in the day. Blue sky seems to be in order, from this vantage point at least. What few leafs remain in the Birch sway gently in the soft breeze. Golden.
At the street, I tug the brim of my cap down and turn south, the Pacific is there and although it is not visible, I can feel the marine layer crouching just beyond the horizon. There is supposed to be a negative tide this afternoon but I know that it’s high right now, I looked at the charts.
The hedge in front of the house next door, where Adrienne and Michelle used to live needs trimming so I cross the street. This new year, 2018, has a fresh clean scent; I breathe deeply, and do so again. I determine that the smell of “clean” must be the combination of salt air, redwoods, and fallen leaves combined.
I have to watch where I place my feet, so progress is slow. I meet no neighbors all the way to Rodriguez Street. Go west… time to go west; it’s rural, and there is no pavement but the street is wide and smooth. One or two cars cruise past and bees buzz in the rosemary that grows wild along the fence lines, small blue and purple flowers changing the colour of the day as they glow in the morning sun. The herbs themselves add another layer of complexity to the clean smell.
Dogs bark at the corner of 7th where I turn north, putting the breeze to my back. Past the dogs, past the VFW Hall, past Michael’s house, I’m almost home now. East at the back of the gas station, past the front of the elementary school and back home. One mile, exactly. One mile around the block. I didn’t fall, I stumbled only a couple of times and didn’t fall.
This week’s prompts are:
- pierced like daggers
- Strange but true
I didn’t get any of them in. I’m sure glad that the rules say I can choose none of them if I need.
Come on amigos – write something! There are no prizes other than the admiration of your peers and that feeling you get when you write – you know the one.