We visited Hoh Rain Forest during our trip to Washington State and strolled along two short trails, the Spruce Trail and the Hall of Mosses.
We braved the airports during COVID and stayed our first night in Bogachiel State Park.
It wasn’t supposed to rain that day, but still, it did. The rain wasn’t supposed to come cascading down for the first time in ten years. It wasn’t supposed to strike the dusty ground that seemed to shudder in surprise, sending up small billowing puffs of dust from the drops’ force.
I never learned to distinguish myself from the earth. In the beginning, my soul flourished within me, green and rich, following the blessing of the river. When the river dried and turned to dust, I found myself empty. I was a yucca plant in the sun, leaves raised to the skies and searching for rain.
This snippet was written from another prompt I gleaned off the Poets and Writers: “The Time is Now” list. The prompt I used was: “The Humboldt Glacier, located high in the Andes mountain range in Venezuela, is the country’s last glacier. Glaciers are disappearing around the world due to climate change, which has also beenContinue reading “Writing Exercise: The Last Plant in the Neighborhood”
The woods rose up all around me, towers of dead trees and bare branches that grasped my clothing and hair as I ran. I took no notice of their thorns as they scratched through my sleeves and left strands of hair snagged on their limbs. It was after me, and the dread that fueled myContinue reading “Writing Exercise: Snowstorm”