The trees flanking the road change to pines on the left-my father planted all those pines with his father and brother years ago. I maneuver the car down the short, steep, driveway, making sure to kept left and avoid the trees.
It feels like home as soon as I get out of the car. The house borders the road and opens up to a huge meadow. The knee high grass hides countless wild raspberries. Wildflowers in all shades of red, orange, yellow, and purple dot the landscape.
The garden is full of potatoes and blueberries. Blackberry vines snake around the compost heap. The old stone fireplace stands like a relic from the past in the middle of the meadow.
I hear the stream trickling next to the woods. The birds chirp in the trees. Shots and the barks of faraway dogs echo across the mountains. A mama black bear and her 3 cubs are visible down by the pond, foraging.
I love upstate.
|The road to the house|
This post was written in response to this week's Red Writing Hood post from Write on Edge.
Good writing plants the reader’s feet into your story. Good writing is also concise. So when you’re trying to decide where to spend your words – where to use the most imagery and details and senses – I say setting is where its at. This week, I want you to take me there. You have 200 words.
I knew I had to write about my house upstate. I love everything about it. As a child I spent my summers there. The best memories I have of my Oma are there. And I still go as often as I can with my kids in the hope that they will love it as much as I do.