After sixteen days of rain the sun came out and I decided to take my writing to the park.
On the walk over I worried I had put on too many clothes, but once I stopped the brisk wind caught up with me. I wondered how long I would last. I had brought along a cushion with a plastic bag on it, a notebook and a pen and coffee.
I sat for a few minutes smelling the spring blossoms opening on the trees and watching the wind dimple the deep-blue water. A lone Mallard duck swam in the estuary.
The grating sound of a weed-eater caught my attention. A gardener trimming the edge of the walkway worked thirty meters to my right and was heading my way. My heart sank and I took a long swig of coffee.
Walkers chatting amiably filled the walkway behind me, enjoying the change of weather. A few children skipped along with their parents. It was spring break. I wondered where all the other children were? A sea gull screeched over head as it swooped down for a landing in the clearing.
As the weed-eater lady approached, I packed up. Irritated about being disturbed, I hobbled off to find another bench, but as I passed her, we recognized one another and chatted. I love that about small towns. My grumpiness dissipated in the warmth of friendship.
The second bench was warmer, but didn’t have a direct water view.I wrote for thirty minutes and stopped only because my fingers became numb from the cold. I returned home for my second cup of coffee.
My quote for inspiration today comes from William Wordsworth (courtesy of Brainy Quote):
Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
I hope you find a piece of tranquility today. I found mine with in the salty, ocean breeze.