Last week we drove from northern New Mexico to hold a week-long writers’ workshop at the Fredericksburg Art School in Fredericksburg, Texas with Gerry and Lorry Hausman. A ten hour drive snaked us across the Great Plains through small agricultural towns with names like Mule Shoe. We saw no mules, no shoes, but we did see tractors plowing fields for cotton; cattle; oil rigs pumping; dust devils dancing across the road. At Big Spring, we were still buffeted by a strong wind, but the terrain started to rise and break up. Treeless plains morphed into limestone cliffs topped with what looked like junipers; the countryside cooled, softened and shifted into deeper greens the higher we drove into the hill country. We started seeing bluebonnets (short, blue-lavender lupine), red blanket flowers, Indian paintbrush, deep red poppies, many bright yellow blossoms. On the late afternoon ride into Fredericksburg we coasted between thick multicolored quilts of spring flowers set against the spreading canopies of the tall Live Oak trees.
We are glad that we were invited to hold the workshop in Fredericksburg. The town is lovely with its old buildings; good, live music at night; fresh, healthy food; friendly people. A conducive spot for writing.
Think about this: what place, geographic area, triggers your best writing?
