Smell, Rather than Taste...

(Sunday, February 11, 2007)

As a spontaneous exercise, the Sunday Scribblings prompt didn't get me thinking immediately about food or taste, but smell. I was smelling gardens and spring. I gave myself ten minutes to write without stopping to think, with pen and paper... regrettably, I got a little bit interrupted, but nevertheless, here's the product, which ended up in another little description of that character I've had in my head for a while.

. . . . . .

Pots are scattered on rickety shelves that line the walls. Their clay is chipped here, soil-stained there, making terra-cotta towers where they're stacked into the corner.

The ceilings of vaulted glass are cradled in frosted panes, framing glimpses of movement within. Motes of sunlight flicker through in sparkling, lazy spirals to the floor.

An old woman tinkers about in front of a shelf, plucking dead leaves and stems from a particular pot. Against the delicate lavender leaves, her gnarled hands resemble a man's, with thick fingers, cracked and stained the black of soil at their tips. The sound of her feet upon the dusty floor is a whisper that's as deafening as a whisper can be; an idle shuffle, which she does not notice. Long, white hair creeps a long way past her shoulders, bound at the nape of her neck with a cord. I cannot see her face, but her frame is slight, her bony shoulders stuck in a perpetual hunch.

Her presence is haunted with a tick: a sharp intake of breath through her nose every seven seconds. At her first sharp breath, I think she is surprised; that she has made some discovery. But after a few instances it becomes a rhythm, and I realize that she is unaware of her own sound. It keeps time with the shuffling of her feet, a melody of quirks that she would suppress if she knew she was being watched.

Enjoy more Sunday Scribblings!

Until next,
-xo Meg

Read or Post a Comment

Hi Miss Lovely Meg. I am having a hard time getting used to your new digs. They are so wonderful!! But I have to get oriented and remember it is our sweet little Meg!! It is really beautiful here!!

Posted byBlogger @ 12:17 AM #

A lovely story, I can see the old woman, I can hear her rhythm. Well captured.

Posted byBlogger Waspgoddess @ 5:09 AM #

I'll have to try this 10-minute writing blitz- it seems to bring out such creativity for people. I loved this little story as well... a woman and her plants, her nurturing of them even if they may be beyond that phase, the give and take that keeps her going...
Just lovely, Meg!
Oh, and I love the collage!

Posted byBlogger Regina Clare Jane @ 12:43 PM #

Beautiful! You made her come alive for all of us.

Do chk mine at:Yummy!!

Posted byBlogger gautami tripathy @ 12:46 PM #

ps: I aodre the story...I was actually daydreaming reading it.. seeing her... hearing her...

<< Home

© Megan K. 2006-2007


Meg... wife, writer, reader, dreamer, artist.



Penelope Illustration
Wish Jar Journal
Lori Joy Smith
Alex the Girl
More to Me
Drowning in Ink
Waiting on the Front Porch
La Vie En Rose
Inside a Black Apple
A Fanciful Twist
I Still See a Spark in You
37 Days
Colors on My Mind
Diary of a Self Portrait