A place to write: Words flow in tranquility
I’ve written from a boat.
I’ve composed from the passenger seat of my truck.
Paragraphs have begun from my bed, the kitchen table, my office desk, from a sleepless night, and even from the pews of a church.
Still, I am here, 30 feet from the earth, perched in a white oak tree that is about 50 years old, I think, and I am writing an outdoors column.
It is, by the norm, not something hunters do from trees. This is a place for hunting. However, this is also a place for writing when there aren’t enough hours in a day and the mood strikes me as appropriate.
I frequent this place. I have grown up here and these woods are familiar to me. Familiarity is something that can be an ally when writing.
Yet, what brings me here today is that I want to capture in a few words, what I see from here.
To my right, which is the North, a woodpecker is the loudest creature in the woods. Beneath this vocal bird, a lone squirrel is scavenging. The wind is swirling and the leaves spiral to the ground below. Gray and brown are the predominant colors here, but I see purple and pink and orange and of course, there is green, too.
Every noise, draws my attention. A stick is released and my eyes focus. A bird frolics and a chipmunk scrambles and my eyes witness this.
I hear a jet and traffic and the donkey that is some distance away will soon bay as donkeys do.
Suddenly, there is a chatter and a squirrel barks here and another further away and one even further and darting and gliding and weaving through the tangle of brush, a hawk is seen. It is dry and it is bright and the sky is not quite blue, but it will do for today.
I am neither hot nor cold and though I am here to hunt deer, I am here mostly to write and solve and wonder and question.
For a moment, I freeze and stare.
It might have been. I could have been. I would be happy, either way. From a distance, something is running. Soon, it will be dark.
I punctuate. I spell check. And I think about where I am and if this is what Apple Inc., had intended. The running is louder now and I am hoping and really, I just want to write more.
With another glance and an eye towards the sounds of the woods, I read this again. I look to the sky. The woodpecker is loud. The squirrels are louder. Another column is complete.
Enjoy your time outdoors.