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nature writing part 1 (a walk)

nature writing part 1 (a walk)

Posted February 4th, 2018 by Swallowtail

by swallowtail
in new york/massachusetts

Hi guys, sorry I haven't been on here at all. Anyway I'm taking a nature writing winter course and I'll post some pieces I've written


Winter is undeniably here all around us, stretching plains of brilliant white across the landscape and stripping the earth of bright colors. The few dashes of color that remain scattered above the snow seem to be too real, too upfront for the cold. I step quickly through drifts that grab at my legs and hold my feet down. I don’t know exactly where I’m headed yet, but I’ll figure that out in a moment. Winter doesn’t allow time for aimless wandering, and neither does the ten-minute timeframe. My throat burns slightly with every breath of crystalline air, and I can feel my lungs sitting cold inside my chest. I walk deeper through frosted woods. The trees feel taller and narrower now than in the summer, when humid air and drooping leaves seemed to fill them out and weigh them down. They stick straight up, jagged branches harsh against the sky and the sloping hills. One has shattered, and now bends over in a loop, ten foot tall splinters breaking off for the sky like a crown for a giant. The snow lays heavy and soft over the hills like a blanket, and it’s not hard to imagine sleepers underneath, each with their own frightening crown. I press onward down the packed path, to where a fringe of dark pines sits just underneath the tops of the bare trees. Underneath, the pines cast shadows of dark blue, tinging the air with a deeper chill. The snow there is speckled with bits of park and pine needles that have fallen and is no longer such a pure white. The pines lean in around me and whisper to each other softly, murmurs thickening the air. I walk deeper into the woods, up a path winding around a hill. To my left, the sounds of town drift through the air, carved into fainter versions of themselves by the cold air and the heavy tree branches. My alarm goes off: ten minutes have passed. With a last gaze out at the path that stretches out through dark woods, I whisper a promise to return and skid back down the hill towards campus.  


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