My husband and I camped last weekend in our Class B RV. Most times when we camp, Mike and I keep busy by checking out the different attractions around the area. We explore towns, shop, visit wineries or breweries, and hike or bike different parks or trail ways. I love all of our camping experiences, but one thing I have to remember is to take time to write.
Camping is a great time to write. Sunday morning at the KOA in Rochester, I sat at the picnic table with my pen and tablet in hand. I had the sun beating on my back—which felt great since the air was slightly chilled—and I took time out to enjoy where we camped. I tuned in to the wind rustling the leaves, and the birds chirping to one another as if catching up on gossip. Their wings fluttered as they flew from tree to tree. I also heard truck and trailer doors slam shut, the zipper on a tent zip as the flap opened or closed, and the ping of a steel rod cut the air as the wind blew it against a trailer hitch. All were vivid sounds for my ears to tune in and hear.
My other senses were used as well. For smell, the fragrant Lilac bushes and other flowers filled the air with a sweet scent, the pine from the picnic table came out as it baked in the sun, and on occasion a faint whiff of sewer smell tainted the other smells. For sight, I watched the shadows play against the grass when the trees moved in the breeze, and how the seeds from those trees floated down to the ground. Other campers were packing up, having to head back home after the short weekend—weekends are always too short.
In the time that I sat at the picnic table, I wrote this blog on paper and came up with a story idea for a young adult series. Not everything I wrote went into this blog today and I may not write the story idea for some time, but I had the time to write whatever my senses wanted my hand to write. For me, it was a great exercise to use my senses. Next trip, I’ll set time aside to do the same thing.