Posted by: Shanna Germain | 08/16/2009

Pg. 138: Writing Space


One of the things I like best about traveling is the chance to write in a place that’s new and different. And, in this case, stunning. The conservatory was full of growing vegetables and flowers that smelled of sunshine and honey. Through the glass, a field of barley, accompanied by one lone (and very large) bull who had slipped the fence.




  1. Okay – one more comment: That is just stunning. The view (even with the bull. I would have made up fantastical stories of how the bull got out, when the reality is – someone probably forgot to shut the damn fence)

    Just GORGOUSLY GORGOUS!!! Did they serve tea? Little cucumber sandwiches? That whole set up is screaming “TEA TIME” to me. I don’t know why, I’ve never been outside the continent of North America…

    PS: I still miss you /huggles

  2. Heheh. It was so very gorgeous — the whole place, really. I’d show you pictures of the stand-alone clawfoot tub painted peach, but we’d all die of jealous!

    I miss you too! Can I come see you when I’m Stateside!? Wee!

  3. A peach colored claw foot tub. Oh lord… that reminds me of a party I went to.

    Three things I remember from the party – the wapatoolie was made and served in an old claw-footed tub (complete with fountain).

    Dragging some dumbass from my old school to the bathroom because the idiot didn’t think there was enough booze in the mix and added more (and by the way, the fact that the lid of the toilet hit said person three times in the head was coincidental, if I’d have meant it, it -would- have left a mark)

    And finally stumbling drunkenly through a hedgerow, looking for garbage – or more drunks, and finding myself standing in a formal english garden (as english as you can get). And in a Stephen Kingesque moment, I looked up from the brilliant white crushed gravel path, to the neatly trimmed verge, to the fountain that bubbled lazily, up the side of the back of the house up to the third floor where my friends grandmother stared down at me like some disapproving harpy.

    I swear to god I saw her, in silhouette, raise up a very large, very terrifying knife before I fought my way back out.

    Then again, it could have been the copious amount of cheap alcohol running through my system (by cheap I mean some of this stuff could have been used as paint remover – for rich folks, they were cheap when it came to booze for parties).

    My friend was -allowed- to have the party if me and a few other approved friends helped keep things under control. The rest of them promptly got drunk and for the life of me, no matter how much I drank, I could not.

    But once everyone left and the crises was averted… I bet you could have taken out my appendix through my nose and I wouldn’t have felt a damn thing.

    Eh, come to wisconsin? I’m hoping you move somewhere warm so I can come visit you!! Wisconsin is headed back to the ice age!!


    • LOL! Omg, Annie. I about died when I read this (I was going to say that I about peed my pants, but I figured no one wanted to know that!). That would be a fantastic funny and scary essay!

      And, hm… I think I know some other people in Wisconsin. But you mean somewhere warm, like Greece? I think Greece sounds good!

      • Greece … oohh… that does sound fun!!


  4. I could definitely be inspired by that location. I can just smell the plants growing through your photo.

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