Exercise in Local Color: Use scensory detail to convey a sense of place.
"Mornin'." Only one of them spoke but all of them touched their hats and smiled as if they were puppets whose strings were pulled simultaneously.
"Good morning," my mother replied, smiling but nervous.
"An' how's my Yankee darlin's?" the deep, loud voice belonged to Leo, our neighbor who lived on the corner of our mile section and the highway. We smiled at him while the bald barber, the only one without a hat asked, "You girls want a sucker?"
He pulled three small Dum-Dums from his shirt pocket which bulged with a stash of them that he regularly doled out to the children he met.
"Goin' to see Ray, are ya?" Leo bellowed.
"Yes," Mom replied. "School clothes."
"Well, better git in thar 'fore the rush!" the group guffawed at the ludicrous idea. Mother smiled, and we trailed behind her to the store.
First thing I noticed when we entered was the smell of leather mixed with old dry dust. Next, I spotted Mr. Baker, bent over in the bay window, arranging a pair of boots in front of a stack of boot boxes. He hopped down, dusting his hands on his brown apron, and came to the counter where he stood, looking at Mom, not saying a word. I stared at the bolts of cloth stacked behind him against the wall. There were several columns, and some reached nearly to the ceiling. How on earth did that skinny little man manage if a local seamstress took a liking to one of the bottom bolts?
"...shoes," my mother was saying, "and dungarees."
"Dungarees?" He asked, shaking his head.
"Yes, denim pants. Like the ones you're wearing."
"Oh, you mean jeans. Just got some in last week. Come on back."
Narrow hardwood slats of flooring creaked underfoot, dipping here and there where they were especially worn. As we followed Mr. Baker, he reached up to pull on strings that at first appeared to be attached to nothing; they vanished into the darkness of the tall ceiling. But as he yanked, single naked lightbulbs came to life, and illuminated more stacks. To one side there were tabled piled with flannel shirts, socks, overalls, and long johns; on the side, racks of saddle soap, shoe polish, shoe laces, and horse halters. Here a rack of women's dresses, there a display of hoisery--men's and women's alike. The enormous array of dry goods pressed in from every side and reached so high, that the light from above tunneled straight to the floor and stopped, leaving the place not much brighter than it was before Mr. Baker pulled the string. How on earth did he know where anything was?
Exercise in Alllusion: Allude to real places, people or events to add dimension.
"It sure looks different from the other planes we see here."
"That's because it was built for a special purpose. Hopefully this will be the airplane that for the first time will carry a pilot, flying all by himself, across the Atlantic Ocean without stopping."
"What does it say up there by the nose?"
"It says Spirit of St. Louis."
The crowd began to cheer. A slim young man walked across the airfield.
"Is that him, Papa? He looks too young to be famous!"
"Yes, that's him. Mr. Lindbergh discovered early that he was born to be an aviator. Tomorrow, if he lands that plane in Paris, he'll be even more famous."
"When I know what I'm born to do, will I become famous, too?"
"Betsy, when you discover what you were born to do, and work hard to do it well, you will be happy. That is what's most important."
Scensory Exercise: Show the reader a scene using only one of the five senses.
Amy returned to her other project to which she could now devote her full attention. With the back of a spoon she spread the tomato sauce, heavily laced with onion and garlic. The acid scent set her nose stinging just a little, but not so much so that she couldn't discern the earthy bouquet of the basil and oregano, and the fresh, green scent of newly-chopped parsley. She carefully lifted wide, cooked noodles, and covered over the sauce. The starchy aroma took over briefly, until she covered the noodles with the sharp tang of aged cheeses. As she repeated the layers, the odors blended more, and began to give a faint promise the full fragrance yet to come.
Amy slid the lasagna in the oven, and smiled at the thought that soon all those smells would be intensified by heat, and carried on rising currents to all parts of the house. She went back to the table and began placing cooled cookies in the tin. She had to concentrate to smell the chocolate now. Was it because of the lasagna, or because the chocolate was so pervasive that she had become accustomed to it? It didn't really matter, because she knew Stephen would smell each and every one of his favorites, even before he was through the door, no matter how mingled or faded they were to her. Though the war had robbed him of his sight, but he wouldn't need his eyes to know that he was home.
It was a sunless Saturday morning, complete with driving rain. I woke with cramps, a headache, and sinus trouble, wishing there was something I cuold sprinkle over the rest of the family to keep them sleeping until I was ready to cope. It was not to be. Dad and our oldest son were soon up, banging out their morning routine, but quickly out of the house. That left me with our 5-year-old, that package of energy who, once his feet hit the floor, would attack the day with gusto. I would be his only companion on the quest. The thought made me groan.
All too soon, I heard him stirring. In that oversized T-shirt he loves to sleep in, he fluttered to me in the gloom, and crawled onto my lap. He was still warm and soft, blinking away the remnants of sleep. He hugged my neck hard for awhile, then pulled back with a lop-sided grin and kissed my cheek so very gently.
"Good mornin', Mama. I'm glad to see you. Did you have good sleepies?"
"Yes, and good dreams. How about you?"
"Me, too. I'm hungry. Can I have coffee?"
He slid off my lap and headed for the kitchen, with not even a backward glance to see if I were following. While I put on the coffee pot, he put in his order for "lots of grapes." When the coffee finished brewing, I put a splash in his milk and sugar, delivered it to him at the table along with his grapes, and went back to pour myself a generous mug.
"Mom, I wanted to see if my grape would float. It didn't. Can you get it out?"
And so it started. He just had to begin breakfast with a buoyancy lesson. I fished his grape out of his "coffee" and he popped it in his mouth.
"Mmmm. They taste good warm, dipped in coffee!"
I sat down opposite him to make sure he didn't intend to bathe all his grapes before he ate them.
"You want some grapes, Mom?"
Patiently, I waited as he plucked grapes and made sure every trace of stem was removed before he delivered them into my cupped hands.
"Two...." He dropped them fron one of his hands. "And two more." He dropped the others. "Two plus two is four. Do some math with me. Easy ones."
We practiced addition he could do on his fingers, but only for a couple minutes. He was back to eating grapes and I was back to nursing my coffee.
"Look, Mom! I can get grape juice. Try it!" He handed me another grape and explained just how to hold it in my mouth, squeeze it between my thumb and forefinger, enjoy the juice, and chase it with the rest of the grape. Of course, he couldn't be content until I had followed his instructions precisely and pronounced the result magnificent.
'How many ways are there to eat grapes, and how many of those will he discover or invent this morning?' I asked myself. I smiled at him. He grinned back and began peeling his next grape. I laughed out loud.
Before I knew it, we were playing ring toss; he was flinging the bagel onto the bread knife that I held out over the table. Poor table manners, I know, but it was great fun.
Soon, all that was left was the grape stem picked clean, a few bagel crumbs, and two empty cups. I found myself humming as I cleared them away. He was off chasing his day. I could hear him being a cat. Throughout the coming hours he would become many things--maybe an artist, an actor, most certainly a pain in the neck. However, I could handle all those things now, thanks to those few morning moments when he was my sunshine.
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