30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing — Day 15: Pitter Patter Go the Raindrops…

I woke up at 4:30 this morning to rain pounding against my window. It was far too early to get up, so I just laid there waiting for it to lull me back to sleep for another couple of hours. With the exception of a few breaks it hasn’t let up much since. Rain is one of my favorite sounds in the world, which is probably a good thing because it pretty much falls from November through May where I live.

My brother (who I meet every Tuesday and Thursday for coffee and a walk) and I decided that we would continue this activity rain or shine through the winter, so I packed some extra clothes to change into when I got to work and drove to the meeting point looking for songs my wipers could move in sync with. Fortunately, we caught one of the breaks and were able to enjoy our weekly ritual without getting drenched and because we had the time, paused a little longer at the duck pond than normal.

There were two females wood ducks we enjoyed watching in particular. As one would beat her wings to catch up with her friend, the other would do the same to stay just ahead. They zigged. They zagged. And I wished I had a camcorder to record their game of tag. After a while the lagger decided to do a little diving. Down she went and my brother and I watched and waited for her to bob back to the surface. One minute. Two minutes. The ripples had completely disappeared when I finally asked where she went. Then plop the leader was gone.

We spent the next several minutes theorizing that some sort of creature had found its way into the pond and was grabbing them from below. It had been nearly ten minutes and all the other ducks were just bobbing along grabbing their breakfast, but our two little ladies were still missing.

Thank goodness for smart phones. We asked Siri (my brother just upgraded to an iPhone 4S) how long ducks can dive for and discovered that they can stay under for up to fifteen minutes. Sure enough we found our girls surfacing on the far side of the pond moments later and they immediately started up on whatever topic ducks converse about again.

What does any of this have to do with thankfulness? Absolutely everything! I am amazed by creation every time I step outside my door. I'm thankful for the symphony created by each raindrop as it hits the leaves, the roof of my apartment, and the surface of the duck pond. I'm thankful for how effortlessly and gracefully the ducks move (and that there really was no hideous beast lurking in the muck). I'm thankful for the intoxicating aroma of damp earth and foliage when mixed together. And most of all, I'm thankful that I was born with not one, but five senses to enjoy it all with. 

30 Days of Thankfulness in Writing – Day 3: Morning Walks

It’s easy to focus on the negative in the world around us. In observation of a month many dedicate to counting their blessings, I’ve started a 30-day challenge in which I’ll focus on one aspect of my writing life for which I am thankful. I’d love to have you join by sharing about something that has blessed your own writing life in the comments section below.
 -Jen

While at Youth Group last night one of the high school students shared with me that one of her family members was about to go in for a major operation. He has diabetes and has to have his second leg removed. It’s no surprise that I immediately started wiggling toes and trying to imagine what it would be like to be unable to walk on my own. It took all of a second for me to decide I would probably go insane. It’s hard enough having to constantly read labels to make sure I don’t accidentally poison myself with gluten.

I love going for walks. It’s a simple exercise that allows me to clear my mind, work through conflicts, process story ideas, and it’s amazing getting to see the scenery changing around me on a weekly basis. It also gives me a chance to spend time talking with the people I love without the distraction of texts, e-mail, or phone calls. (Our walks are technology-free zones so we can have 30 minutes to completely unplug.) As I write this I’m just starting to warm up from my trek through the local park. It was 40 degrees out and raining, but as long as I was moving I didn’t really seem to notice.

So today I’m thankful for the ability to exercise — to stretch my arms and legs, and flex my cold fingers and toes.

I’m thankful that I can see the flaming reds and yellows and oranges clinging to branches and covering the ground.

I’m thankful I can hear the geese and ducks arguing with each other while standing on a bridge watching from above.

I’m thankful for the heat I felt seeping through my coffee cup into my mitten-clad hands. For the rich taste that warmed me as I took each sip.

I’m even thankful I could smell that pile a careless dog walker “didn’t notice” their pet left in the middle of the pathway.

It’s so easy to take the little things for granted, but when I stopped to consider them this morning I realized how big an impact each one has on my life. I also realized that without these amazing yet simple abilities my job as a writer would be a much more challenging task.

The Missing “Scents”

I think smell is one of the five senses we tend to take most for granted, and yet it’s one we depend on more than we realize. It’s allergy season for me. The cottonwood trees are in full bloom and are filling the air with their own form of watery-eye, itch-inducing, fuzzy snow. Even with taking allergy meds it’s a miracle when I can breathe clearly through both nostrils at the same time.

Today happened to be one of those days. While Phillip and I were walking across the pedestrian bridge spanning the Rogue River, I noticed two distinct scents. They were so strong we joked that someone had stopped and sprayed two canisters filled with the particular smells just to catch people’s attention. (In truth, they come from two different trees growing along the river.) The first smell was sweet, a mix of floral and spice drops. It’s the perfume I attributed to the fabled gumdrop trees in the realm of Fancy. The other reminded me of my brothers’ soccer bags after a week of daily doubles.

Smell is also key to taste. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to differentiate the passion fruit from the rest of the flavors of the tea I ordered this morning. Everything just blends together obscurely. I know it’s there, I get a hint of the flavor, but it lacks the full body. And then there is the role it plays in creating memories. A whiff of cologne or body spray will bring to mind a friend or family member I haven’t seen in years. Vinegar reminds me of the summer my grandmother spilled a full bottle in her car. Finally, smell can alert us to danger long before we see or hear it, such as smoke, gas, or milk that has recently turned.

Why this long-winded talk of smell, you wonder? Well, I’ve been helping some friends with their writing projects over the past few months and I’ve noticed sight and sound has been abundant, but there has been little mention of the smells surrounding their characters. This made me take a closer look at some of the books I’ve been reading. Lo and behold, there it was: Sight. Sound. Touch. Taste. And Smell. Coupled with the past few weeks of limited breathing capabilities, I’ve become more aware of just how flat the world is without the sharp, sweet, sour, and gym-bag fumes permeating my environment. It’s one more thing I’m keeping in mind as I work through my own revisions.