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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Goodness, I nearly lost my balance on the spiral seashells and broken sea stone chipping matrix. My quaint obsession with marine life and that skyline paradox blossoming so tantalisingly, might be a source of some unfortunate accident. “Be careful, Hunter.” A dramatic otherworldly start to our long cherished goal of novel writing? Doing it as we take our usual Sunday route. Hazel, partner of thirty years laughed cordially. Like me she also found the world and its magical yet scientific calculus quit bizarre. Mother Earth’s features seemed to Hazel a labyrinthine logic puzzle. One never knew what tangents our environment could produce when least expected. She was a lecturer in advanced computer technology after all so enigma must almost certainly go with every sphere or territory if her discipline was anything to go by. I’m a high level maths and maths physics teacher. “Let us concentrate on that work. The one with the characters we meet every Sunday when we jog together. Some creations can dwell in the work-in-progress phase only for so long.” Hazel could design design conversation threads that would make the most skilled architect seem amateurish by comparison. Today was as good a day as any. “Hazel, it will be great fun taking notes. This stop and stare couple if you will. Both of us have good memories which is a plus.” My notebook felt slippery as I shuffled it in an awkward inner pocket. A damp but warm day with periodic sunshine and that whooshing gust at our backs was now in full swing. “We’ll record car drones, the snap of brittle branches, and folk that chatter in markets. Most likely as we wend our way round town. In spurts, let’s say.” Hazel’s ethereal persona at play. “May noises from nature and the human world be those faceless characters.” Hunter did comment as we breathe heavily whilst continuing to run. “It will be unorthodox and add mystique to boot.” We kept up this magic dialogue as we cut across a damp moisture- laden path beside the nearest granite stone shelter. Children’s swings and slides in the local fun park an attraction no doubt. All those kids began to wave at us. Pausing intermittently was an integral part of a hazy morning trot. “Oh Hunter, it’s your birthday tomorrow. You’ll never guess what surprise I have in store.” Hazel, lover of the gentle hint. “Sounds mysterious. Looking forward to it.” Hunter said archly. Hazel and I had this energy burst against the backdrop of a threatening weather front that could scowl any minute. We were engulfed by our environment partly in fear, partly for inspiration. Deep gulps of air with great urgency would force an eager nose rub and cheek peck. “Ahh, that feels good. Bet you feel the same.” Hazel romantically. A car passes as we continue. The driver waves in this bizarre manner. An unknown figure that somehow senses our denouement. There had been downpours the night before and occasional pools to avoid. “Wonderful scenery. Look at those gravity defying droops and spectral tints from exotic border plants.” Hazel observes. “Yes, colourful foundation for that piece done on the run so to speak.” Hunter grins at his potent words. There was ample food for thought in this jogger’s path. The verges on the fringe of each footpath were covered in grass tufts that flicker, that cavort about at a south-east breeze’s whim. Haywire blackcap raspberry brambles whose overlap tentacles spread across every mound or patch. Star-shaped brown leaves veiled cover for those sharp spines that protrude. Us madagascan parrots continue our early dash as the clouds overhead weave an enigmatic contour in azure blue skies. Curiously enough this self-same enchanting cloud miscellany fiddles and skirts over rusty rooftops and mountain peaks that beguile the human eye. “Amazing isn’t it at this juncture in our lives? A treasure trove, scenic amethyst penchant for metaphor.” Hunter to Hazel as a cue to elemental plot or seamless banter. “Oh, a chorus from Nirvana’s opulent far reaches. Glorious cacophony, revelation from congo bay owl, singing dark-eyed junco, baltimore oriole, northern mockingbird to name but a few.” Hazel animatedly. “Soundscapes beyond our imaginations ignited by summer saline rushes. Bird assembly perch like elfs on a rainbow eucalyptus.” Hunter and Hazel now in awe at creatures who mesmerize at random. “Don’t worry, I have my smart phone switched on. I’ll capture most of it.” Hazel now speaking. It was not the only alluring feature on this mysterious though regular odyssey for us. Between notes and new recordings the whiff of Bombay mix recipes from an nearby market began to take hold. “Pumpkin seed baps on spits, reek of sesame oil, aromatic seasoning that wafts everywhere. We could use some.” Hazel wryly whilst we attempt to dodge muddy waters from last night’s shower. “Oh your gift. I had a chat last Friday with this publisher. Our story outline went down well. They’ll commit that potential script to memory. And would like to have exploratory talks tomorrow afternoon.” Hunter was thunderstruck. “You never really told me.” Our boundless amusement interrupted by a car that drove through pools splashing us, The hologram notepad lines as well Hazel’s cell-phone fell to the ground. Unfortunately the screen was now beyond use. “Dear me. We’ll have to start from scratch. An upgrade was due on my phone anyway.” Hazel being philosophical because there was no other avenue. Within seconds this peculiar driver. reversed. If there was some facial recognition process for remorse then an indelible caption would complete this split second event. “Didn’t I see you all before? I’m so sorry. I have to rush home to finish this report. Deadline Monday. You know what deadlines do to people. Sincerely hope I didn’t wet or destroy anything valuable.” He said contritely. “Nothing important. Not in the long run!” Hazel sighs. “Guess we’ll have to jog our memories.” Hunter whispers in an ironic tremble. Posted ; June 27th 2022
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