Our Garden

26 05 2010

It has been longer than I care to remember since I actually joined in with a writing workshop. I think that I stopped when I was in the middle of my OU course (Start Fiction Writing), when writing became harder, a struggle. I hated feeling like I had to be creative and write on demand. I don’t think I will be doing any further courses like that with the OU in the near future.

I feel like writing today though, so the workshop was perfectly timed! Plus, there was a twist this week which has made it interesting. Josie has given us 5 words or phrases to pick from, the we have to make up our own prompt, and then write our own post. I chose: In the Garden

My prompt is:

Tell me all about your garden, how do you use it? What is it like? What do you like about it?

It is early. Very early. I feel like the only person awake. I slide the door open as quietly as I can and step out into the bright sunshine. The sky is a perfect blue and I squint in the early morning sun. Steam rises from the mug clasped within my hands and dances in the chill of the early morning air. I breathe deeply and feel the veils of sleep lift from my mind and my thoughts turn to the day ahead. I perch on a chair and make plans as I warm myself by sipping my tea. I listen to chattering birds singing songs to each other. I savor every precious moment of being alone.

It is warm. I have laid the blanket on the grass and scattered toys across it. I have arranged the furniture so that the umbrella casts a large enough shadow. The birds are still here, but their singing is matched by Piran’s constant chatter. I watch a cat make its slow and steady way along the top of our fence. I have a book but I am distracted by the sight of my son playing. I sip an ice cold drink and we share an apple. I try to convince Piran that he must wear his hat. It is hot and I slip from the chair to the relief of the shade that cover the blanket. Piran passes me toys and I drive cars up his back and down his belly making him laugh. I tickle his bare legs and feet and try and steal a sneaky cuddle. The sun rises until it is right ahead and the shade disappears so we head inside for lunch.

The day has stretched onwards and it is late afternoon. There is shade again, if I move things round a little. I have given Piran a bowl of water and he is splashing and taking his balls out and rolling them in the grass. I run around barefoot, enjoying the feeling of grass on the soles of my feet. I blow bubbles into the air and Piran watches them fly past him. He laughs and splashes more. He sings to himself, lost in his own game as I wander between the raised beds, stealing lettuce and spinach leaves to eat. I pick vegetables and herbs for dinner, inhaling the sweet scent of earth. We listen for the sound of the front door, heralding our favourite time of day, when Mr C comes home.

It is evening. The smell of barbecues fills the air from the gardens around us. The light is lengthening, Mr C is tending to his plants, watering and checking that they are all okay. Two cold glasses of wine rest together on the table. I look up from the book that I am reading to watch the swallows that drive and swoop over the roof, their beauty and grace a joy to behold. We chatter softly, sharing the details of our day. I pull on a cardigan and lose myself in my book, the glass of wine disappearing as the pages pass. As the light goes so do we, inside to cuddle together on the sofa and finish a wonderful day. 




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