| General Non-Fiction posted November 11, 2020 |
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A memory that will live on forever,
A Walk to Remember
by HarryT
We love when Lady Autumn walks upon the stage. We are enraptured by Jack’s wonderful artistry as he adorns the maples, elms and oaks in red, orange and golden dresses.
Lorie and I drink in the fresh autumn air as we slip from our car and walk through brown and yellow leaves that crackle their welcome as we stroll upon the grey gravel stones of the forest preserve parking lot. To us it’s the perfect time of day as the western sky fills with rich hues of pink, red and orange. We start down our favorite trail, the sounds and smells of Indian Summer filling our hearts. A cricket choir accompanies us in rising crescendo. Cool wafting breezes finger our hair. We turn up our collars and peek through the thinning leafy canopy upon hearing the brazen honks of geese flying south in the v-like formations.
Leaves falling around us lay a colorful mosaic carpet along our path. We listen for an owl to sound his “who-cooks-for-you” call, and the croaking of the frogs from a distant creek. Seeing the floating leaves isn't just a beautiful moment for the eyes, but when coupled with the sound of leaves crunching beneath our feet, our hearts jump with youthful joy as hand in hand we bound along our path.
As shades of dark begin to spill, we head back to our car. The owl calls, a wet splotch drips down my forehead. I pull out my handkerchief. Indeed, a walk always remembered.
Season's change writing prompt entry
We love when Lady Autumn walks upon the stage. We are enraptured by Jack’s wonderful artistry as he adorns the maples, elms and oaks in red, orange and golden dresses.
Lorie and I drink in the fresh autumn air as we slip from our car and walk through brown and yellow leaves that crackle their welcome as we stroll upon the grey gravel stones of the forest preserve parking lot. To us it’s the perfect time of day as the western sky fills with rich hues of pink, red and orange. We start down our favorite trail, the sounds and smells of Indian Summer filling our hearts. A cricket choir accompanies us in rising crescendo. Cool wafting breezes finger our hair. We turn up our collars and peek through the thinning leafy canopy upon hearing the brazen honks of geese flying south in the v-like formations.
Leaves falling around us lay a colorful mosaic carpet along our path. We listen for an owl to sound his “who-cooks-for-you” call, and the croaking of the frogs from a distant creek. Seeing the floating leaves isn't just a beautiful moment for the eyes, but when coupled with the sound of leaves crunching beneath our feet, our hearts jump with youthful joy as hand in hand we bound along our path.
As shades of dark begin to spill, we head back to our car. The owl calls, a wet splotch drips down my forehead. I pull out my handkerchief. Indeed, a walk always remembered.
Lorie and I drink in the fresh autumn air as we slip from our car and walk through brown and yellow leaves that crackle their welcome as we stroll upon the grey gravel stones of the forest preserve parking lot. To us it’s the perfect time of day as the western sky fills with rich hues of pink, red and orange. We start down our favorite trail, the sounds and smells of Indian Summer filling our hearts. A cricket choir accompanies us in rising crescendo. Cool wafting breezes finger our hair. We turn up our collars and peek through the thinning leafy canopy upon hearing the brazen honks of geese flying south in the v-like formations.
Leaves falling around us lay a colorful mosaic carpet along our path. We listen for an owl to sound his “who-cooks-for-you” call, and the croaking of the frogs from a distant creek. Seeing the floating leaves isn't just a beautiful moment for the eyes, but when coupled with the sound of leaves crunching beneath our feet, our hearts jump with youthful joy as hand in hand we bound along our path.
As shades of dark begin to spill, we head back to our car. The owl calls, a wet splotch drips down my forehead. I pull out my handkerchief. Indeed, a walk always remembered.
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Writing Prompt Write a short story 250 words(beg, middle &end ) about season's change- can be metaphorical or factual. Paint it verbally with wistful memories, profound emotions, lovely landscapes & sprinkle with some humour ! Choose your own title. |
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