I was standing on the pitcher's mound, the highest point in the field. I can feel the breeze whooshing, wanting to blow my hat off. In the background, I can see trees—some with leaves, some without. The air is cool and crisp. It makes a shiver run down my spine. As I'm in my windup, the slow, cool breeze at my back urges the ball to go harder and farther. As it reaches the plate, I can see it's right down the middle. I can hear the umpire shout, "Steeeriiiike three!" As I walk off the field, I smell that smell that only fall can create.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Autumn
This post is by guest blogger Turner French, written Sept. 9, 2010.
I was standing on the pitcher's mound, the highest point in the field. I can feel the breeze whooshing, wanting to blow my hat off. In the background, I can see trees—some with leaves, some without. The air is cool and crisp. It makes a shiver run down my spine. As I'm in my windup, the slow, cool breeze at my back urges the ball to go harder and farther. As it reaches the plate, I can see it's right down the middle. I can hear the umpire shout, "Steeeriiiike three!" As I walk off the field, I smell that smell that only fall can create.
I was standing on the pitcher's mound, the highest point in the field. I can feel the breeze whooshing, wanting to blow my hat off. In the background, I can see trees—some with leaves, some without. The air is cool and crisp. It makes a shiver run down my spine. As I'm in my windup, the slow, cool breeze at my back urges the ball to go harder and farther. As it reaches the plate, I can see it's right down the middle. I can hear the umpire shout, "Steeeriiiike three!" As I walk off the field, I smell that smell that only fall can create.
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Oh Jenny! These are the moments where you can step back, sigh and say "yes, I HAVE made it!". Love you always! xo Kate
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