In Jumpstart Writing, we've been talking about using our five senses (sight, sound, smell, taste, touch) in our writing to make scenes and stories more vivid. Here's a little exercise I did, trying to use all five senses. Maybe next time, I'll try for six senses?
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A surprisingly mild day today, a throw-forward into spring. After the strong and turbulent winds yesterday, which, according to the Chronicle, blew out windows in skyscrapers in SF and hit 90 mph somewhere in Marin, the day arrived quiet and meek and full of sun. We are slowly getting acclimated to San Rafael and Marin County, after our move down from Petaluma last August. Mostly we do this mby getting out on hikes around and about, sometimes in new territory, sometime in familiar territory.
Today, we revisited the Pt Reyes Visitors Center on Bear Valley Road out in West Marin, hiking around the Morgan Horse farm, down around the creek and out to Kule Loklo, the representational reconstruction of a Miwok Village. Maybe 3 miles altogether, under blue skies and a few chilly breezes.
We walked up to the Morgan Horse farm behind the Visitors Center, reading the exhibit placards and then along the fences, trying to entice the four horses to come over and say hi for neck scratches, but they were far too busy cropping the short, green grass. Well, one did suspecting we might have grass, I think. The neck was dusty, solid; the fur soft, but also wiry, resistant.
We moved on, air redolent with eucalyptus, which made me feel like I was recovering from a cold. The trail dipped down along the cool creek; we could hear its burbling and babbling way before we got to the wooden bridge, where the trail crossed over and went on up the hill to Sky Camp. That's a hike we'll take next time. For now, we want to get to know the lay of the land and develop our legs, grow our stamina. Plus, we didn't bring any sustenance aside from the tart tangerines we devoured down there at the bridge. We were deep down the canyon, cool and a bit dim, but the bubbly brook reflected bright blue sky. In the underbrush of the medicinally-fragrant bay trees, a wren-like bird rattled and bounced around. Larger than a Bewick's; not quite as skittish. Maybe a spotted towhee? Hmm, maybe not.
As we came back up the trail, the call of a red tail hawk echoed across the valley beyond the meadow; acorn woodpeckers cackled through the trees near the creek, a spotted towhee, (definitely). jumped through the limbs of a downed bay tree; tall scraggly firs were punched with long descending rows of very round holes, the work of acorn woodpeckers, creating their storage graineries for acorns.
We wandered along behind a row of tall thick shaggy eucalyptus trees, taking the marked turn to investigate the meadow with the Kule Loklo village. The structures were perfectly designed, part of the round house dug into the ground, drawing up the cool damp from the ground that will very soon be quite necessary. Some of the round house was roofed and walled with redwood bark; an open courtyard was walled by ring of rows of large rocks, creating a deep well with a wide floor, where 20 or 30 people could mill about, conducting discussions and activities, protected from the sun, but with a most fabulous view of the Bolinas Ridge across Olema Valley. It felt like it would be a good place to stay in the hot days. I plan to come back, for sure, for a pleasant walk amid the trees and views. I might bring a book or a sketchpad, a picnic and water. I might plan to stay a while.
