Writing prompt: Write about Spring

Friday’s writing prompt is a single word, “spring.” What does the word mean to you? No-one in our group was much enthused about writing for ten minutes about a mundane word like “spring” but we did, and we each attached a different meaning to the word.

One storyteller wrote about spring cleaning and how she brainstorms creative projects while she pushes a vacuum around the house. Another writer became a tour guide in the barren desert landscape of Ethiopia, where a water hole really is a living metaphor for the resilience of Earth and its people.  Another time-writing traveler whisked us to Old Town America, when mothers made spring dresses for their daughters and prepared trays of home baked breakfast goodies for community gatherings.  Maybe Spring is a season, a time to wear less clothing, a time for the birds and bees.  Or not. Maybe spring is a coil of metal, or a sound—a voice that groans every time it is stretched awake to welcome you home.

Spring. For me it’s a time of mystical, hidden themes like a table set for Persian New Year, full of ancient symbols.  Spring is a relentless medicine, a prescription of healthy day-capsules filled with more sunshine than darkness. It is an assortment of stories with secret messages, and a series of mysterious beginnings that eclipse every ending. Once it was a nerve-racking Easter holiday when I was introduced to my husband’s family, another time it was an Easter Sunday of bewilderment when I had a miscarriage. Spring furls open with a new message every year. This year’s secret motif, and my Lenten contemplation, is to gather stories of compassion, sometimes a heavy topic, sometimes inspirational.

Spring is mutable. As I type on an overcast day, I feel like planning for the summer and planting dreams as hopefully as a farmer ploughs his crops into the earth, wishing for abundance and a better future for all.

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About jkConibear

Judy is from neither here, nor there, but those places in between. She is a cross-cultural writer whose works are unified by themes of identity and belonging. She escapes her suburban life by typing up stories, much to the dismay of her starving family.

Posted on March 26, 2014, in Stories, Writing Prompt and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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