Mucking about in the creek
Inspiration is where you find it
It’s Sunday afternoon as I sit down to write this. It’s the nicest day we’ve had here in Central NJ in a few weeks, so I suppose it’s no surprise that two kids have been playing in the creek behind my condo off and on since about 8 a.m.
The only reason I can hear them is that the AC is finally off and the windows are, very happily, all the way open to let the beautiful summer air in. I’ve wondered throughout the day so far if my neighbors can hear them, and if they can, what they think.
I think it’s wonderful.
I’ve lived here for 26 years now(!!), and it’s the first time I can remember hearing any kids back there. There’s plenty of other stuff back there: during lockdown, when we started noticing our worlds in a whole new way, I heard something for the first time (or the first time I noticed) that sounded like a very large rubber band being plucked by invisible hands. Google informed me that some of my neighbors are, in fact, Northern green frogs.
I assume the boys today, who I’d guess are roughly 9 or 10 years old, encountered some of those, because I’ve never stopped hearing them. I’ve also heard feral cats and sometimes even a fox call (and that one will mess with you—I was sure there was a child or a woman in agony out there until I found out what foxes sound like).
Today, though, it’s been kids, talking and playing and splashing around in the creek. In the summer, you’d never know the creek was back there, because the foliage covers it, so I also haven’t been able to see the kids. But I sure have heard them.
There was a shriek at one point that had me a little worried, but since it wasn’t followed by any sort of panic or sounds of pain, I was pretty sure they were okay, and that’s been borne out since then. (I was tempted to shout out and ask, but figured I’d probably freak them out, and that it would be wiser to pick my moment.)
Part of the reason I’ve wondered what my neighbors are thinking is because—especially because there’s a homeowner’s association involved here—my suspicion is that most of them would be mildly annoyed listening to these kids. They’re disturbing the quiet on a Sunday, after all! (They’ve mostly been pretty mild to listen to, aside from one agitated “No shit, Sherlock!” a couple hours ago.)
I’ve thoroughly enjoyed listening to them today, though, because they’ve given me a window back into a forgotten childhood (and also taught me that there are crayfish back in that creek, too). I was never much of one for playing in creeks, mostly because there weren’t any near my house, but that spirit of free-wheeling exploration? That was always there.
I’ve been imagining the world through their eyes as I’ve heard them today. Who are they? What brought them to this part of the creek? What are they looking for, or are they totally open to what they might find? (I’m guessing a little of each.) Did they spot a frog? Did the frog spot them? Just how much of a mess are they, and how much messier will they be by the end of the day, and will anyone give them trouble about that—or is it just another free-range Sunday for them?
Maybe they’re visiting. Where are they here from? Who are they visiting? And for how long? Someone on BlueSky suggested perhaps there’s a Stephen King novel unfolding right behind where I live, and who knows? Maybe there is.
Or maybe it’s happening in my mind. Today’s been like having one of my favorite ways to find new story ideas—sitting in a crowded place like a mall or an airport or a busy coffee shop and listening to what’s happening around me, snippets of conversation, general chaos, etc.—come right to me.
I really believe that ideas are all around us all the time. There are probably at least five within arm’s reach of you right now, but you haven’t noticed them.
So: what ideas are sitting right there, waiting for you to notice them?
As I write this I realize that I had an interesting idea just today while I was in the shower—of course—and meant to write it down before it got away from me. Did I? NOPE. Sigh. I know I’m not the only one who does this, but it’s still annoying. Maybe it’ll come back…but please don’t repeat my mistake! Write your idea down so you don’t lose it!
If you’re having trouble finding the ideas around you, I’ve created an audio exercise to help you see the world around you differently, which is usually the key to locking on to those ideas. It’s called “Find Inspiration Anywhere” and it’s based on a process I invented for a young student several years ago.
The exercise uses ordinary, everyday objects to turn the mundane into the magical. Give it a try for $9 today!
On a mostly unrelated note, but one also rooted in nostalgia, I’ve been making my grandmother’s sloppy tomato sandwiches lately. My grandfather kept his own garden, most of which was tomato plants, and would fill his old-school tomato basket with the extras and trudge up and down the street handing the extras out to neighbors. Needless to say, he was very popular!
My grandmother, on the other hand, would take two slices of bread, spread a little mayo on one side of each, sprinkle that with oregano and a little salt and pepper, and then a slice or two of American cheese (white—I know it doesn’t actually make a difference, and I know it’s hardly the world’s most interesting cheese, but anything else would not be my grandmother’s sandwich—from the deli, not those individually wrapped things), and put a slice of tomato about half an inch thick in the middle.
They’re called sloppy for a reason, and on more than one occasion, the tomato has managed to slide away from me—today was one of them!
She may have made this whole thing up herself, or it may be some ancient family recipe. I realize this may not sound like the most exciting sandwich, and may even just sound weird, but hey, I come from Pennsylvania Dutch country, and I promise if this sounds awful to you, you ain’t seen nothing PA Dutch yet. (Scrapple would like a word. 🤣)
To me, they taste like summer, back in those days when I’d be outside with my brother collecting pods off her mimosa trees or helping in that garden. I suspect I’m the only person in my family who’s made them since she died in 2007. I might even be the only one of us who actively remembers them. But I’m back in her kitchen with every bite.
What’s your favorite summer memory? And what’s your favorite nostalgic food? Tell us in a comment!
OOOooooh Summers at Culver Lake are my most favorite childhood memories. And if you would like another startling haunting sound during the night... While staying in Florida, I hear screeching cries and thought a woman was being impaled. No. It was just a local, long billed limpkin bird doing its usual thing.