Essentially, writing is about the emotions
and memories that come to you when you think about a topic. To that end, it could be beneficial
to go to a place of zen, while you sit in your garden, and clear your mind. This can be done by
practicing a method that Gretchen Bernabei coined in her educating practice. What you will do
is, as you sit in the garden, think about a memory that the scenery invokes. This memory can be
from a smell in the garden that causes you to think back to a specific time. The scenery can
also be reminiscent of something you've done in the past. However, if a memory is not coming to
mind, create a story based on one element of the garden. Next, you will write only simple
sentences, with very little details. Each of the sentences will be specific and follow the
pattern below.
In thinking about the memory or new creation, answer the
following questions to begin your essay:
- Where were you?
- What were your feet doing, what were your eyes seeing, and what were you thinking in
the very moment this memory or imaginative scene began?
- What happened
next?
- How did the memory wrap up, and/or, what was the final moment in this
occurrence?
- What was your overall impression of the moment? What did you
think or consider?
After you have answered these questions, and allowed
nature to be your muse, go back and flesh out each question. You should include vivid details
that are inspired by the freedom of nature. Likewise, if you choose to create an imaginative
story, it may be helpful to base each question on a specific thing in the garden. Below, I have
written two simple sentences that would answer the first two questions, to give you an idea of
this process. I based my sentences on sitting in a rose garden, which I have, and used a rose
petal as my inspiration.
- Where were you:
I was waiting for my husband at the Botantical Gardens.
- What were your feet doing, what we're your eyes seeing, and what were you
thinking in the very moment this memory or imaginative scene began?
I was standing still, with my eyes fixated on a the dew that was captured by a rose
petal. I remembered the first rose my husband gave me.
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