Yearly tests with all the worry about passing would be daunting.
The smell of freshly baked cakes is something my nostrils can sense even behind this screen. I also did a lot of baking over the years for family. Kids are grown and I stopped doing that much baking. Over time I cut most of the sweets out of my life. Now I can't really eat them because it's not appealing anymore. It affects my palate in a way some people would feel with something very sour like sucking a lemon. I figured, with diabetes in my family's history I'm only helping to avoid it by declining sweets. So far, so good.
I've been really terrible about editing stories I wrote for a contest that had potential, but then I got bored with editing since the contest ended, and I moved on to newer things.
Those yearly tests are probably keeping folks alive. I often ask folks about when they are going to give up their keys. We are fortunate to have alternatives in this town.
I forgot about this contest. I've entered in the past.
Thanks for your comments. Yes, we do have a very pleasant time on a Wednesday morning each week. There’s something about an all female group of writers that’s different to a mixed group. We’re all very sensitive to each other’s feelings whilst not afraid to comment and suggest ways to improve our writing. We’re very lucky.
Sounds lovely! Those photos are beautiful. I love the the little cottages. What a pleasant time you ladies must have had in that venue. 1896 cottage. My house dates back to the late 1830's. I call it my money pit, though!
How beautiful the backdrop is with the local inhabitants. Kangaroos, and exotic birds!
Use these words in your entry: fog, sea, wind, desolate, seagulls, thunderstorms, and use this quote as well: “There is peace even in the storm” ― Vincent van Gogh. Have fun.
‘There is peace even in the storm isn’t there?’ My husband whispered during a break in the claps of thunder. Our dog, hiding in the cupboard under the stairs would have disagreed, I’m sure. He hates thunderstorms and prefers to go anywhere to avoid hearing the sounds of the wind whistling under the eaves.
I looked out of the window to the desolatesea, at the seagulls swooping and screeching on the thermals in the leaden sky, the view limited because of the fog rolling in. Soon there’ll be a white nothingness blanketing our home. Perhaps then I will agree with my husband’s use of Van Gogh’s quote.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.37 seconds at 6:40pm on Jun 20, 2025 via server WEBX1.