Writing Outside the Lines – Prompt 9

Writing Outside the Lines – Prompt 9

Here is the prompt for the week of October 4th:

WOTL Prompt 9

You are the writer and in charge of how you want to address this picture prompt. Write to the sentence, to the picture or to a combination of the two.

Remember you are in charge of your words, there is no ‘right or wrong’ with this process other than to have FUN!

You have until Sunday, October 11, 2015 to share your writing … or when you feel the mood strike even after the 4th.

All prompts are active and feel free to go back to earlier ones if you have not been one of my Writing Rebels … the only challenge here is between you and what you have to write … the rules are few and open to everyone!

*For those new to this challenge, please read the particulars under the third tab that says “read first” https://annieswritingchallenge.wordpress.com/writing-outside-the-lines/ then return to the prompt page to post your response or your web site link in the comments section

Copyright © 2015 Annie
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie

 

 

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22 thoughts on “Writing Outside the Lines – Prompt 9

  1. It Happened On a Dirt Road

    Many have quaint memories of time spent along country roads. I’m a city boy, through and through, so consider that full disclosure. My memories of dirt roads are anything but quaint, most of them tied to my experiences in the beautiful sport of hot air ballooning. Just imagine driving in a van with no air conditioning, down a dirt road in Columbia, Missouri, behind a couple dozen balloon-laden trucks and vans, through a cloud of dust so thick you’d think it could be fog. But the taste of dust in your mouth tells you quickly that it’s not. A year after, I still was finding dust in corners of my van.

    In another time and place…Battle Creek, Michigan, I landed the balloon, loaded it onto the van, and went in search of a marker. In ballooning, scoring is done by measuring to an intersection on the map, from where the marker lands after being dropped or thrown from the balloon as it flies by. The marker’s a bean bag full of corn seed, with a long brightly colored tail. If I couldn’t find the marker, I would get no score in the event and would accrue a penalty for the lost marker. As I feared, it was caught in a tree, and not just any tree…an old farm lane tree, devoid of branches for maybe 20 feet up. Predicament deluxe.

    Some balloonists have been known to carry a shotgun in their recovery vehicles for such events, but I don’t, so what I needed was a way to climb to reach it. At least some luck was with me. A nearby house had an extension ladder I was able to borrow. The downside was that it was slightly too short to easily reach the marker. Only one solution remained…I got in touch with my inner primate. Hugging the tree trunk and wrapping my legs around it, I slowly climbed the last couple feet to the lowest branch. Using a dead branch I broke loose, I was able to shake the branch the marker was hanging from, and I watched it fall to the ground below. As I carefully made my way down, the observer, whose duty it was to record flight and marker data, measured the distance to the nearest intersection.

    Ballooning was a part of my life for 28 years. The experiences I remember are varied but would be familiar to all other balloonists. Note that I didn’t say they’d be always remembered fondly…but I still smile about that memory of something that happened on a dirt road.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Some of my best memories come from some old dirt road. But not from from just any dirt road. This dirt road takes place in a small town in Maine. It’s a place where I spent all my vacations growing up. It’s the road that led to my first boyfriend, my first kiss. It’s the road that led to summer days swimming in the lake, winter days building a snow fort and stepping into snow that came came up to my waist. And as I grew into adult hood this old dirt road brought my son his first taste of sliding on a snow covered hill and the touch of cool lake water.

    Now this road takes on a new meaning. One of bitter sweet memories. As my parents come to the end of their journey in this life, this road represents last visits and memories of shared love. It’s funny how this old dirt road takes on so many meanings as time goes by. Memories I’ll cherish till the end of my time, to be carried on by my son and his child. Some of his best memories that come from some old dirt road…

    Liked by 2 people

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