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Magic in Nature

Writing and writing

debaccuardi

I have been writing up a storm this month. Just not here. I think I mentioned a few posts ago that I would be participating in the Free Write Fling with Cynthia Morris this month. Today is day 20 and I have been writing everyday in my spiral bound notebook. The most interesting writing has been coming out of me. A lot of interesting knitting/recipe collection ideas. But also a bit of poetry, fiction, processing on paper. Really interesting (for me at least)! Part of the free write process is that I won't go back and look at my writing until the month is over. For most of my journal writing I don't ever go back to look, but I know I will want to use some of the ideas in the future. It has been great to participate with a community of other Flingers online this month as well. We don't comment on what anyone is writing (if shared), but offering encouragement happens occasionally. I am finding that for myself any beach or seaside related prompt is sending me off to the most interesting creativity. Often it starts there and wanders off somewhere else. I was thinking about it this morning and realized that, as a child, my most creative endeavors took place at the beach. My sister and I had our fort in the old lumber pile my grandfather put off to the side of the cabin. In there "Mama and Jodie" eeked by on mudpies and gigantic, wild blackberries. We painted rocks gathered from the beach with water colors; repainting after every summer storm battered our artwork from the rocks. I took painting classes from a terrific artist visiting one summer from Texas. My artistic talent didn't stick, but a great love of fine art did. And the most important creative endeavor of all were those many stormy days and setting sun moments where I would sit in the bay window and stare out at the ocean wondering where those ships on the horizon were going or what creatures might be peeking out of the tumultuous waves.

Funny that today I am sitting in a city cafe with these memories instead of writing in a wind blown notebook. But that is the joy and wonder of memories. They can travel with you anywhere:)