Using words only, take a snapshot of the experience. We’re looking forward to reading your imaginative scenes, sans photographs!
Walk into Town
The night before he’d said: “Tomorrow a walk?”
“Yes, why not, but early ok?” she replied.
It’s interesting how relative time is. For one person early is 6:00, for another it’s 9:00. They finally had their coats on and were out the door at 9:30.
The air was crisp, the sun not having tipped the mountain yet, gave its shaded light to the small village, but none of its warmth.
He’d pulled his hood up to protect his ears as they walked towards the fields, a short-cut from their village to the larger town lower in the Sarca Valley.
The icy gravel crunched under their feet. The fields were white with the early morning frost, with just a hint of the green that still resisted the first cold snap of the year. The grape vines looked like so many sacrificed skeletons tied to their poles through the fencing along the path between fields.
Most of the fruit trees no longer had any fruit or leaves they looked barren and sad, all that is except for the persimmon trees. The last of their broad leaves had fallen, but the yellow-orange fruit kept clinging to the branches. Something between modern art and a Japanese haiga. The fruit reminded them of bright-colored Christmas tree ornaments.
Frosted fields, a bit of green grass, orange persimmons and finally the golden sun that finally tipped the mountain. Ah what a perfect snapshot!
frosted morning walk
sun tips mountain top