{"id":10752,"date":"2021-08-03T05:30:00","date_gmt":"2021-08-03T12:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/?p=10752"},"modified":"2021-07-30T15:02:19","modified_gmt":"2021-07-30T22:02:19","slug":"las-padre-lope","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/las-padre-lope\/","title":{"rendered":"Los Padres Lope"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer\u2019s voice on the page.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Los Padres Lope<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

By DS Briggs<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

They hit the trailhead of the Lone Condor Trail in Los Padres National Forest. After last night\u2019s party complete with hot tub and paper umbrella drinks, Michelle was in a fragile state. Hungover was not how she envisioned starting a ten-day backpack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trail started gently. The meadows still full of flowers and new greenery. The transformation from scrub and madrone to wild grasses and wild flowers was amazing and spoke to the renewal of life. The vigil she stood last April seemed long, long ago. For days they had wondered if anything would be left of the forest. The fire capriciously jumped here and there. Michelle\u2019s Go Bag was packed and stowed safely in her red convertible. While the ashy gray skies rained over the hillside community, in the end, Half Acre was spared.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sweat started beading between her shoulder blades where the pack had left a paper thin space. She adjusted her hat and grunted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Declan looked back. Michelle was struggling but thankfully not whingeing. He admired her silent resiliency and determination.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ragtag group of five hungover hikers started to string out on the path. Warnings of holes, tree roots, and occasionally a snake sighting were passed downline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Les called a rest break, the shade from the failed homestead\u2019s lone palm tree provided some respite from the heat. Some, but not much. The hydration system Les wore didn\u2019t look so silly after their water bottles drained quickly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease God, let me make it to camp before I kill him,\u201d grumbled Michelle when Les blew his damn whistle again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Los Padres Lope” inspired by the writing prompt:<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Use hot tub, paper umbrella, palm tree, camp or camping, vigil, convertible, fire and transformation in your writing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

DS Briggs<\/strong> resides in Northern California with Moose, her very large, loving and loud hound\/lab mix. She has attended Jumpstart Writing Workshops<\/a> for several years and enjoys writing in short bursts. She has been privileged to contribute to Marlene Cullen\u2019s Write Spot books<\/a>: Discoveries, Possibilities, and Writing as a Path to Healing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

DSB’s love of writing developed out of her love of reading.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer\u2019s voice on the page. Los Padres Lope By DS Briggs They hit the trailhead of the Lone Condor Trail in Los Padres National Forest. After last night\u2019s party complete with hot tub and paper umbrella drinks, Michelle was in a fragile state. Hungover was not […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"sfsi_plus_gutenberg_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_show_text_before_share":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_type":"","sfsi_plus_gutenberg_icon_alignemt":"","sfsi_plus_gutenburg_max_per_row":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1474],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10752","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-sparks"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p43Dj8-2Nq","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10752","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=10752"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10752\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10762,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10752\/revisions\/10762"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=10752"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=10752"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thewritespot.us\/marlenecullenblog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=10752"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}