So the same exercise again for today… Rainstorm-5min, Counter-10min, Cape-10min, Snow-90sec

Rainstorm on a hot summer day. Cooling it off, the gray clouds in the sky. Dark, ominous. Steam creeping off the pavements, without any noise. Just floating up in a mist. The thunder roars as the lightening lights up the sky. During the storm, the lightening in streaks like trees. The thin line is the trunk, branching out in all directions. & the trees it strikes, as they are the tallest objects. Splitting & burning them with fire! After the storm, silent heat lightening lights the clouds as if a light was switched on behind them.

The counter, Venetian Granite. A sandy color with light & dark flecks sprinkled throughout. Cold, hard. Covered in papers, bills, my cat. A resting place for all things without a designated space. A double sink cut within, filled with dishes. Counters in the bathroom, still venetian white, but here covered in makeup, hair supplies, toothbrushes, & so on. Easy to clean, when you can get to the surface. But counter also means backwards, a clock, time, moving in the wrong direction. Living life in rewind. The opportunity to change all mistakes. But would you? You wouldn’t be who you are if you did. The opposite to one thing. Never food on the counter where it is meant to be, only objects misplaced without a home. Never eat there, rather on the couch. Baking cookies at my parents’ house, laying them out on the counter to ice with our homemade icing. Rolling my sweet, delicious, made from scratch red velvet cinnamon rolls with cream cheese cinnamon icing that take two days to make because you have to let the dough rise. Mixing it in a large green bowl. Rolling it out on the counter with a rolling pin that sticks. Flour is key, but it doesn’t always work. Slathered soon in butter, sugar, & cinnamon before rolled into the oven & baked to perfection.

Cape, not just what magicians & superheroes wear. Also the name of many iconic coastal based cities. Typically on a peninsula. With capes worn around the neck I think first of red, like Quailman. Then of sparkly glittery capes of magicians in top hats, which leads to the magical Herr Drosselmeyer. Making overgrown dolls come to life for the children. Bringing them joy & other gifts, for Clara her precious Nutcracker. I also think of the old fashioned vampires with pale glowing skin, black hair to match their capes with popped collars, red blood trickling down their chin. Back to red we go. Capes on superheroes. A cape is for looks, sure, a special effect, but it can also strangle or get caught on something. Cheesy animated movies with characters that get sucked into plane propellers because of their cape. Back to propellers. Everything is connected, not just in writing, but in life. We are all connected in the “great circle of life.” The planets, the galaxies, all the stars in the universe. All connected by dark matter. Nothing is ever truly alone.

(Snow) My favorite environmental element! So fluffy as it breaks your fall. Allowing tiny snowflakes to scatter themselves about your limp body laying deep in the hole where you jumped into the snow. Snow angels are fun to make!

So similar to my first object writing exercise (& those for the upcoming days), My first topic, “Curtain” I had 5 minutes  to write on. I got 10 minutes for “Breeze” & “Canyon” each. & I got 90 seconds to write about “Propeller.”

Curtain, silky white & smooth. Long, draping across the top of the window hanging to the ground, where it sits in a puddle. The wrinkles in the fabric, the ripples on a lake. White, but not like the winter snow, no. A softer white maybe ivory even. My black cat sits perched, a contrast to the white. Periwinkle walls. Protection from the outside world, the snoopers, the sunlight. All privacy thieves. Dark at night

Breeze, gently blowing. A dandelion in the wind. It unspools. Tiny specs floating about, what if “Who’s” really did exist? The breeze creates tiny waves, soft sprays of ocean float through the air to gently kiss your face. You taste the salt water. You remember your mother coating you in sunscreen as a child. The bare bottomed baby on the bottle. The breeze, too strong for the tiny birds wings, blown about, all the while fluttering, wondering where it will take him. The breeze blows lightly as you walk through the rain, it’s just a drizzle, but once more blowing tiny raindrops in your face, only this time it isn’t salt water. Nowhere near an ocean now, surrounded by the foggy morning air punctured only by sitka spruce trees in cold wet Washington state. The dandelion has travelled far and wide to get to the other side. From the shores of the Atlantic to the shores of the Pacific spreading seed

Canyon, deep, dark & eerie. What lies beneath these feet. So far down there. Ride a donkey down, packs on it’s back. Bottles of water to cool you down. Stay hydrated on the trek. There’s no water until you reach the river at the bottom. Dirty green water that winds and bends it’s way along the length of the crevice between the cliffs. Eroding the walls down even more. Ever so gradually. Not even noticeable. The walls reddish brown. Like rusted iron. Not made of clay though. The floor of the basin the same color. The color complimentary to the dirty green water. Crossing the color wheel, the full spectrum. Looking up, the primary color blue. Cyan-not like the pepper powder, which is spelled cayenne. Like deep in the ocean, the mind untangles. Unravelling it’s power, lost. Relaxed

Propeller, spinning, round & round. It goes down beneath the ocean or high into the sky. Don’t get to close because slice & dice you it will! Even sitting still. Dangerous to all, but put to good use