Navigation
This is Dani Smith

 

I am Dani Smith, sometimes known around the web as Eglentyne. I am a writer in Texas. I like my beer and my chocolate bitter and my pens pointy.

This blog is one of my hobbies. I also knit, sew, run, parent, cook, eat, read, and procrastinate. I have too many hobbies and don’t sleep enough. Around here I talk about whatever is on my mind, mostly reading and writing, but if you hang out long enough, some knitting is bound to show up.

Thank you for respecting my intellectual property and for promoting the free-flow of information and ideas. If you’re not respecting intellectual property, then you’re stealing. Don’t be a stealer. Steelers are ok sometimes (not all of them), but don’t be a thief.

Advertisement
Tag It
10 Things (27) 100 Push Ups (1) A Book A Week (81) Albuquerque Botanical Gardens (1) Alien Invasion (6) Anderson Cooper (1) Aspirations and Fear (11) Bobby Pins (1) Books (20) Bracket (1) Civic Duty (26) Cobwebs (1) Contests (3) Craft (3) Cuz You Did It (4) D&D (1) Danielewski (1) David Nicholls (1) Dolly (5) Domesticity (13) Doodle (1) Dr Horrible (1) Eglentyne (6) Electric Company (1) Etudes (14) Friday Night Lights (2) Frog (1) From the kitchen (or was it outer space?) (14) Generosity (2) Germinology (19) Ghilie's Poppet (1) Giant Vegetables (1) Gifty (14) Haka (1) Halloween (7) Hank Stuever (1) Hearts (5) Hot Air Balloons (1) I really am doing nothing (8) IIt Looks Like I'm Doing Nothing... (1) Ike (12) Inspiration (62) Internet Boyfriend (1) It Looks Like I'm Doing Nothing... (102) Julia Child (2) Kids (10) Kilt Hose (3) Knitting (7) Knitting Olympics (9) Laura Esquivel (1) Lazy Hazy Day (4) Libba Bray (1) Libraries (2) Locks (1) Los Lonely Boys (1) Lovefest (50) Madness (1) Magician's Elephant (1) Making Do (18) Millennium Trilogy (1) Morrissey (1) Murakami (4) Music (9) NaNoWriMo (30) Nathan Fillion (1) National Bureau of Random Exclamations (44) New Mexico (20) Nonsense (1) Overthinking (25) Pirates (1) Politics (20) Random Creation (6) Read Something (94) Removations (1) Richard Castle (1) Running (21) Sandia Peak (2) ScriptFrenzy (9) Season of the Nutritional Abyss (5) Sesame Street (2) Sewing (15) Sex Ed (4) Shaun Tan (1) Shiny (2) Shoes (1) Shteyngart (1) Something Knitty (59) Sonars (103) Struck Matches (4) Sweet Wampum of Inspirado (4) Tale of Despereaux (1) Tech (7) Texas (8) Thanksgiving (4) The Strain (1) Therapy (15) There's Calm In Your Eyes (18) Thermodynamics of Creativity (5) Three-Minute Fiction (1) Throwing Plates Angry (3) TMI (1) Tour de Chimp (2) tTherapy (1) Twitter (1) Why I would not be a happy drug addict (12) Why You Should Not Set Fire to Your Children (58) Writing (89) Yard bounty (7) You Can Know Who Did It (13) You Say It's Your Birthday (16) Zentangle (2)
Socially Mediated
Advertisement
Eglentyne on Twitter

Twitter Updates

    follow me on Twitter
    Currently Reading
    Advertisement
    Recently Read
    « Book Review: House of Leaves: The Remastered Full-Color Edition by Mark Z. Danielewski | Main | Resonant phrases from the non-journal, your Writing Wednesday Inspiration »
    Thursday
    Sep232010

    Writing Prompt: A Tree in Time

    This prompt is brought to us by C. M. Mayo’s Daily 5, October 20th. And by the letter Q and the number 7.

    A Tree in Time

    Corkscrew willow, c. 2005, shortly after transplanting from bucket to ground

    Outside my kitchen window grows a corkscrew willow tree.  The willow tree and I were the same height when we brought it home five years ago.  The sapling was growing in a black five-gallon bucket and fit inside our van.  On the ride home from the nursery, the three Sonars  in their car seats had to dodge the twisty green leaves that wagged around on bumps and turns, threatening to tickle ears and noses.  

    We have a tree-climbing rule in our house: no putting your full weight on a branch narrower than your own wrist.  Call it a rule of wrist.  It protects the trees and the kids.

    The first couple of years, no branch of the willow tree satisfied the rule.  Now, all of the lowest branches are fair game.  The supple, willowy branches all reach up over the top of the house.  The Sonars can shimmy up at least ten feet, crowing as they look over each other’s heads, spying the neighbor’s yard, shouting in imaginary conquest.  The green, waxy leaves of the willow twist around their faces in a whispering curtain.  

    The corkscrew branches reach out and up and down, threatening to tickle noses, grasping for a final caress before the kids are out of reach.  

    Reader Comments

    There are no comments for this journal entry. To create a new comment, use the form below.

    PostPost a New Comment

    Enter your information below to add a new comment.

    My response is on my own website »
    Author Email (optional):
    Author URL (optional):
    Post:
     
    Some HTML allowed: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <code> <em> <i> <strike> <strong>