[Critique Group 1] Marcia's January submission 233 words Winter Walk

[Marcia Wick]

Ahhh…that’s why I didn’t have it on my calendar. Thanks!

Marcia

 

From: tuchyner5 at aol.com [mailto:tuchyner5 at aol.com] 
Sent: Thursday, January 24, 2019 6:12 PM
To: marciajwick at gmail.com
Cc: group1 at bluegrasspals.com
Subject: Re: [Critique Group 1] Marcia's January submission 233 words Winter Walk

 

Hi Martia,

We don't have a meeting January. The next one is in February. If I'm wrong, please correct me. My caladar has it for Feb. 27.

Leonard 


-----Original Message-----
From: Marcia Wick <marciajwick at gmail.com <mailto:marciajwick at gmail.com> >
To: Leonard Tuchyner <tuchyner5 at aol.com <mailto:tuchyner5 at aol.com> >
Cc: Critique Group 1 <group1 at bluegrasspals.com <mailto:group1 at bluegrasspals.com> >
Sent: Thu, Jan 24, 2019 4:30 pm
Subject: [Critique Group 1] Marcia's January submission 233 words Winter Walk

A Yummy Winter Walk

Marcia J. Wick, The Write Sisters

January 2019

Word Count:  233

 

 

 

Despite the biting cold, I hunger for a winter walk. I layer long johns under fuzzy fleece, and pull a hat with ear flaps over my salt and pepper hair. I slip protective booties on the precious paws of my guide dog, then I wrap my furry yellow lab in a reflective lemon jacket. She flaps her ears and pokes her anxious head through the harness. We venture into the chilly air for a mouth-watering adventure - I gulp at the ice cream delight. 

 

The trekkers stretched over my boots provide sure footing as my guide leads me onto the sidewalk buried beneath a blanket of crispy meringue.  Fence rails like Popsicle sticks line our way. Glittering ribbons of icing outline bare trees creating a chocolate and vanilla  marble maze. 

 

My guide dog halts at the curb to survey a slushy street crossing; she gingerly picks our path through gooey gelatin. Dollops of marshmallow cream top evergreen hedges and passing cars. Pine needles shimmer in glaze. Yards are iced and decorated with sprinkles like cookies. Wind stirs the winter scene, lifting puffs of powdered sugar off the roof tops. The cloudless sky, like baby blue frosting, caps the frozen treat. As we blast through the sunshine and shadows, a branch weighed down with mounds of cocoanut slaps me in the face like a pie. I blink and lick my lips, savoring the sweetness.

 

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