Frustration, aggravation and the need to overachieve are common traits of a writer. Inspirations, such as hearing of someone dying, or watching a newborn baby sleep, or dreams, filled with colored dragons with massive wings and full of different magic abilities, are two common tools that spark the creative touch of the everyday writer. Sometimes creative sparks are overlooked or taken for granted, but what is the inspiration when you are required to write or when there is a limit to what you can write? This is something I pondered for, what seemed like, forever. Struggling to come up with a descriptive essay for my English 101 class, I took my laptop outside into the woods and just admired nature’s beauty.
It is funny what you can see if you just sit back and watch, feel or listen to what is around you. The gentle breeze blowing across my fingers as I type reminds me of how I long for springtime to come. Closing my eyes, the dead-looking trees around me fade away and fill with the sounds of young birds chirping and the gentle flapping of newly born green leaves. The breeze in t
The smile tends to fade away after my mind comes to the realization that it was only a “dream”. The wind grew cooler and reminds me that spring is at least two months away, that and the falling acorn from the squirrels playing in the dead trees. Gazing up at the grey squirrels, I watch in amazement as they run from tree to tree, rarely looking down to see how far they have run. Watching them duck into a hole, I realize that it is beginning to rain. The cool water droplets beat against my skin as I hide my laptop under my shirt. As I make it to a small shelter, I pull the laptop back out to make sure everything is still working fine. Mother Nature’s wet raindrops have a funny way of tearing up our “highly advanced” electronics.
he air becomes warmer, bringing with it the wonderful scent of a springtime rain or the lingering scent of new honeysuckles. A smile on my face and a beautiful picture in my mind, I open my eyes once again only to find the dead looking trees and their dead leaves on the ground.
As the clouds close back together, trying to hide the sun’s rays,
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