The exercise:
Write about: the final approach.
Honestly hard to believe our time on the Island is ending on Saturday.
Showing posts with label Approach Prompt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Approach Prompt. Show all posts
Wednesday September 5th, 2012
The exercise:
Today we write about: the approach.
Managed to get caught up on comments today since we took the day off from the garden again. It's funny, every year I look forward to the day we decide to stop weeding, that point when it makes more sense to focus on harvesting and selling and just let the weeds go until it's time to plow everything under at the end of the season.
I always expect it will be a celebrated day, but every year it ends up like this: we wake up one day and realize we haven't done any weeding in the last week or more, so we might as well make it official that we're done with that for another year.
Oh well, maybe next year.
Mine:
Heat retreats at Cold's approach,
Leaves turn red in alarm
While a wintry breeze assures
He truly means no harm.
Feathered friends flee to the south,
Bears prepare hidden beds;
All of Nature readies for
The long winter ahead.
There is a chill in the air,
This silence drifts like snow;
I can see winter coming -
There's not much time to go.
Today we write about: the approach.
Managed to get caught up on comments today since we took the day off from the garden again. It's funny, every year I look forward to the day we decide to stop weeding, that point when it makes more sense to focus on harvesting and selling and just let the weeds go until it's time to plow everything under at the end of the season.
I always expect it will be a celebrated day, but every year it ends up like this: we wake up one day and realize we haven't done any weeding in the last week or more, so we might as well make it official that we're done with that for another year.
Oh well, maybe next year.
Mine:
Heat retreats at Cold's approach,
Leaves turn red in alarm
While a wintry breeze assures
He truly means no harm.
Feathered friends flee to the south,
Bears prepare hidden beds;
All of Nature readies for
The long winter ahead.
There is a chill in the air,
This silence drifts like snow;
I can see winter coming -
There's not much time to go.
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