tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post2340058162911088139..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Monday June 2nd, 2014Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-41245485546495161462014-06-08T00:47:22.386-07:002014-06-08T00:47:22.386-07:00Greg - we use wood... I dunno, shavings I guess. S...Greg - we use wood... I dunno, shavings I guess. So it's quite light, which makes shovelling it pretty pleasant.<br /><br />Unless the wind is blowing.<br /><br />Lovely descriptions and atmosphere in your piece today.<br /><br />David - hah, fantastic lead in with the various steps. And a well-timed ending - I really enjoyed this one!Marchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-6645796713621626792014-06-04T09:04:57.389-07:002014-06-04T09:04:57.389-07:00My body is a temple she screamed at the mirror. D...My body is a temple she screamed at the mirror. Daily affirmation number one. Number two was every man puts his pants on one leg at a time. She forgot number three. But number four was god shalt not commit treason or diddle a vestal virgin. Number five was lipstick should always match your complexion. She was an Autumn. Number six was always wear clean underwear in case you are hit by a bus. Number seven was it never rains in Spain or Southern California. Number Eight had something to do with Jerry or Cherry Garcia. Number nine made her nervous so she generally skipped it. Number ten was Satan Rulez accompanied by devil horns and a sticking out of her tongue. She then spent some time wailing and whatnot, accompanied by a bit of pleading and gnashing of teeth. With that completed, she would smile at her reflection, turn about face, and march downstairs to make breakfast for the kids and enjoy the beautiful God given day.Davidhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02535943936537261662noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-20456259002577087582014-06-03T03:54:14.174-07:002014-06-03T03:54:14.174-07:00Mulch has always sounded quite wet to me, so the i...Mulch has always sounded quite wet to me, so the idea of it blowing off the shovel is an eye-opener (well, for me; for you I guess it's an eye-closer). But, congratulations! You are now the proud owner of several rows of mulched strawberries :)<br />I'm intrigued that your temple is its own barker in your story, that suggests something rather interesting going on there. The temple seems like a pleasant enough place, until that penultimate line at least.... Colour me fascinated.<br /><br /><b>The temple</b><br />The rain was soft but insistent, pattering on the corrugated iron roof like an OCD drummer in afternoon practice. Underneath that sound was a softer drip as the rhododendrons' fleshy green leaves funneled the rain into tiny waterfalls that plunged towards the soft, black, fragrant earth. The flowers were closed up tight against the downpour but their perfume still rose up and tendrilled through the air<br />Aisleen leaned forward in the chair, massaging her forehead. Bright pinpricks of light sparked at the corners of her vision and she felt hot and sweaty, almost short of breath as though she'd been running a race. She was sure that a migraine was coming on, and was praying that the tablets she'd taken would kick in first.<br />She let her hands sink into her lap and leaned back in the chair, her head lolling slightly on the anti-macassar.<br />The sound of the rain masked the sound of the hammer striking her temple perfectly.<br />Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com