| Saturday, June 17, 2006 |
| Dance |
Dance, Illustration Friday.
When I recieved this weeks topic, the first think that I tought of was something I wrote for a writing class. The assignment was a description of a specific place remembered from your childhood. Camping with my Grandpa is a wonderful memory. I loved to watch the fire dance in the wind.
Camping with Grandpa
Grandpa struck a match. It hissed in his fingers. He threw it onto the kindling and it burst into flames. Within minutes, the logs, stacked like a teepee over the kindling, were on fire. The flames burned blue at the bottom and turned red, orange and yellow at the top. They shot up and flickered down, swaying from side to side in the wind, as if they were dancing with it.
The fire crackled, and loud popping sounds snapped from it as sparks flew into the air. They looked like fireflies as they flew off and disappeared into the dark sky above.
The fire warmed my skin. It felt like I was sitting under the hot sun. I could feel the heat all over my body, especially my face. Smoke billowed above the flames. My hair and clothes smelled like campfire. The wind shifted and smoke blew in my eyes and they burned and watered.
I sat on the ground with my legs crossed. My knees glowed orange in the fire's light. I slid a soft white marshmallow onto the sharp end of a stick--earlier Grandpa had sharpened it to a point with his pocketknife--and stuck it into the campfire. The marshmallow caught fire. I twisted the stick around so it would burn evenly. When it was completely on fire, I carefully brought the stick out of the fire and blew out the flame. I pulled the crisp, burnt, bubbled up, blackened marshmallow off the stick. The shell slid off easily, but the soft, melted, sticky center stayed on the stick. I popped the shell into my mouth. It tasted like the fire smelled, mixed with the sweetness of the marshmallow. I ate the rest of the marshmallow right off the stick. The gooey cream melted on my tongue; this part was softer and sweeter. My mouth watered for more.
After a few marshmallows, I sat and stared at the fire. The dancing flames hypnotized me, and made me sleepy. I stretched out my legs, and pushed away from the fire. The ground felt colder underneath me, and the cooler air away from the fire woke me up. I leaned back against a big log, and looked up at the night sky.
A full moon lit up the pitch-black sky like a lantern, and millions of twinkling stars sparked like Christmas lights. Giant pine trees surrounded the campsite, and the moonlight lit up their tips. The looked like they were on fire. A pine scent mixed in with the smell of smoke from the fire.
Crickets chirped in the distance and occasionally the hoot of an owl interrupted their song. A long, loud, steady, Ah-wooo echoed through the trees, sending a shiver up my spine. Grandpa's soothing voice reassured me it was just someone's dog and not a wolf on the prowl. |
posted by Kelly @ 6/17/2006 05:45:00 PM   |
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| 1 Comments: |
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This is a delightful story of a happy memory, and the illo is a perfect companion. I like the bright dancing flames!
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Name: Kelly Gibbons
Home: Dallas, Pennsylvania, United States
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This is a delightful story of a happy memory, and the illo is a perfect companion. I like the bright dancing flames!