Excellent A Beautiful Place The Forgotten Valley by Ulla Sense of Place Short Story writing prompt entry

I know this place very well. In fact I live here with my husband, five cats and a big, beautiful dog, a Mastiff from the Spanish Pyrenees, a gentle giant. Only barks if someone enters who shouldn't. We call our place, The Forgotten Valley, because only twenty kilometres away down at the coast, a lot of people, have never heard about the place. Amazing. Of course, it's not the real name of our valley, but that's what we like to call it. Indeed a very beautiful place, we are surrounded by mountains that open up down towards the sea, and the lower valley down there, is mainly farmed with orange trees, which gives it a lovely green hue. Up here we are living among olive trees, almond trees and in particular, cherry trees. In fact our valley is particularly famous for the cherry trees. Right now, well into the month of May, we are so busy picking the cherries. We have more than 300 trees on our land, so the month of May is big business for us. We get up at first light in the morning and, after a quick breakfast, the picking starts. Mid morning, we break for coffee, then box what we have picked, plus the crop from the night before, Then, we are away delivering and selling what we've managed to pick. They go like hot cakes I might say. It's a joy. Once back up on the land, we eat lunch and have another well deserved break, before we are away picking again in late afternoon. Oh, May is a busy month. At the beginning of the picking season, we eat so many cherries that by the end, we can't stand the sight of them. We are so tired when the month is over. It's really difficult to imagine, just how hard work it is. Gratifying as it may be, we are totally knackered, when the season is over. That is where we are at this moment in time. This year the picking season has been shorter than usual, but good all the same. Now we are back to the tranquillity of our valley. We wake up at dawn to the twittering of the birds, and the last month or so, the Nightingale has been greeting us with it's tantalising singing, just before dawn is breaking. Sometimes it is almost annoying, because we are so tired, and we just want to sleep on for yet another hour, but then again, how privileged we are to have it singing away just outside our windows. Me being Danish, I can't help thinking of Hans Christian Andersen, and the fairytale called the Nightingale. Lovely. Now, apart from the birds, the only other sound we hear in the morning are the farmers going to their plots, travelling at speed in their tractors. Almost all of them live in the villages, and have to travel to work their plots, as opposed to us who live on our land. We can hear the occasional car way in the distance, only to be interrupted by the bray of a donkey in the far distance. We always say that it sounds quite painful, smiling at one another. And the smells. In early January we have the sweet scent from the almond flowers, to be taken over by the cherry blossom in mid March that lasts well into April. The humming of the bees is enticing, while they are busy pollinating, mingled with the scents of wild herbs and wild flowers, which grow in abundance on the terraces of our mountains. I often stop in my track, just looking around, taking in the beauty of it all, whilst the church bell, in our nearest village below, is chiming in the hour. I love it here.. Writing Prompt Write a 400 to 700 word essay describing a place. This should be a descriptive short story, make sure you describe the place very well. This place you are describing can not be a place in your imagination, dreams, ext. It has to be a real place, preferably a place you know very well. You do not have to have been to this place, and this can be a made up story. Be creative and descriptive! Recognized Author Notes Word count 676

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