Tonight’s prompt is “How Does Your Garden Grow?” and invites writers to explore any kind of garden—flower, vegetable, cactus, or even one admired from afar.
Write about gardens you’ve grown, loved, or disliked, or ones that belonged to others. I vividly remember my mother’s lush gardens, my dad’s vegetable patch, and visits to famous gardens. I appreciate the beauty of flowers and shrubs, but my black thumb and I are hazardous to their health.
Begin with a five-minute brainstorming exercise, jotting down short phrases or memories about gardens without overthinking it.
Then, reflect on your list and choose one focused memory to expand into a story, describing the garden vividly and delving deeply into its personal meaning.
Remember to incorporate your senses.
But always remember, the only way to do this wrong is to not do it at all!
Until next month, happy writing, everybody.
Thought of a better title: Green Beans, Peppers, Tomatoes,OH MY
The story of your vegetable garden and flower garden showed how determined and creative you are.
You made me smile. I can smell your flowers from here.
Here is my effort from Tuesday’s Zoom.
Your story about the Christmas Cactus was delightful. I could picture the red blooms on a healthy cactus after many years of tender loving care.
I loved hearing you read this last Tuesday and enjoyed it once again reading it here. A lovely story…ready to be published.
Thanks, Dar. I enjoy writing with friends.
Memories from a Jardin Garden by Raquel David.
Your story about your grandparents’ garden is a beautiful description of the garden in the fall. Your story gave me a feeling for what this garden meant to your grandparents and you as a child.
I enjoyed your story. The descriptions are vivid and I was there. You were lucky to have grandparents.
Here is my story. I submitted it today, and it will be published in February. Please let me know what you think.
Beautifully written story, Etya. I love rereading your words – they are so unique and captivating.
Thank you so much, Raquel. I appreciate your kind words.
Pink Carnations In nineteen sixty-seven, I sat on a glider swing in Rolling Meadows, Illinois, in my backyard at nineteen years old, nursing and rocking my first child. My husband’s parents had encouraged us to buy this house because it was affordable, even though it had no air conditioning. I had no car and no friends in a faraway town from where I came. A five-foot chain-link fence separated me from the Cartwrights, my elderly neighbors. My daughter, Jamie, nine months was learning to walk, and I took her with her fingers, and we’d walk next door to Cartwright’s. Along… Read more »
You have raised a wonderful son who loves you dearly.
Beautiful story, my friend. You know it made me cry when you read it last night. Well done!
Lovely story Holly. I’ll look at pink carnations differently now.
What a wonderful story of love and thoughtfulness. Pink carnations meant so much to you through the years.
How touching.
My story from last night.
Nice story, Nancy. I had never mowed a lawn in my life. My husband took care of it.
It’s nice to hear about your life in Canada. I enjoyed the story, Nancy.
Nice story, Nancy. I can relate.