Friday August 26th, 2011

The exercise:

Four lines of prose about: the peak.

Because this evening's harvest confirmed what I already suspected: the blackberries peaked for Wednesday's pick.

I always find it a little depressing to do the first pick after peak, but hopefully they'll stick around for a little while longer.


He had been training all year for the championship event. All eyes were on him and his competitors but he knew he was ready. His body was at its absolute peak, he had made sure of that.

"All right everyone," the announcer called out to the eager audience, "the hot dog eating contest will begin in just five minutes!"


Greg said...

I guess if the blackberries peaked then there's now more thorns than berries? It's been years since I was around blackberries, but I seem to remember that you'll have to cut them back soon then.
The hot-dog twist at the end of your four lines caught me out! Nicely done. It does continue to surprise me slightly that people actually train for competitive eating events... or that they even exist!

The peak
Isabella Bonfontaine tightened the harness, ignoring Marcus as he watched it adjust her body and emphasize her curves. When he looked as though he was about to say something, she casually adjusted her stance, just missing his foot with her crampon.
"Ready, Marcus?" she said, "The North Peak certainly is!"
Marcus muttered something she didn't catch but sounded like it might have had "twin peaks" in there somewhere, much to her disgust.

Ruby said...

I look up, nearly there, nearly there, nearly there I say as I think I am getting closer to the peak but no. It seems to me that the mountain gets taller every time I say 'nearly there'. As it seems I am right. I stop saying 'nearly there' and what do you know, I am at the peak in the next 20 seconds. I think the climb was worth the view. White fluffy clouds, endless summit down and beautiful horizon. My biggest dream.

Maddy said...

I live in Estes Park and when I was young, my family would go on a hike up the mountain we lived on every year, so this is about that:

Breakfast was finally ready and I shamelessly gave my self a big serving of the finely crisped bacon and eggs. Thinking back on it, this was probably the reason I’m so obsessed with food; it was the reward after the long journey. I was always scared at this point as well because we sat and ate next to a cliff with a straight drop off. There wasn’t anything thing there protecting you from the edge ether, so a slip could send fall for a good five minuets or so till you hit the bottom. But I’m making it sound like my parents were giving us a death sentence. Truly, there was a lot of distance between that cliff and us.
Staring off onto the plains and mountains, I had nothing else to do but think. One of the many mountains we could see was Mica Mountain and right next to it was Maddy Mountain. They were named after my sister and I, except Mica Mountain was real and we pretended there was a Maddy Mountain so I wouldn’t feel left out. As she is the older sister, I felt like a lot of things went that way, not that I live my life thinking of these things.
Now, one side there was the cliff, but on the other side it was safe enough to look over and to our luck the town was on this side too. We would search for the places we knew and if you had just the right spot, you could see our house. This was all way before google maps so the birds eye view of places you know was very rare. It was always fun even though the roads and little brown spots had absolutely no similarity to the places my Mom would dive me.
Even though the trek up was difficult, long, painful, and I was hungry the whole time, I remembered almost nothing of it. It was when my family sat a walked around on the peak that information was stored for the long term. I have missed these family hikes even though I despise anything that has to do with a mountain or a trail.
But I can see me and my fiancĂ© forcing our future child to get up before the sun is up just to suffer for the next few hours, because that’s what family is; you suffer with them, and usually you suffer because of them, and they’re there with no matter how much you try to get rid of them, but they are there for you, no matter how much you don’t want them to be. It was at the peak where I learned what has brought me through life.

Marc said...

Greg - thankfully with the domestic variety there are no thorns. We'll be pruning them back either before winter fully hits or first thing next spring (which is what we did this year).

Haha, that's quite the pair to make an attempt at a mountain peak. I'm not certain they'll both make it :)

Ruby - your piece reminds me of a few hikes I've done; the highest point I could currently seem must be the top... but no, another peak awaits.

Maddy - that sounds like a truly memorable experience. I think it would be great to share it with the next generation :)