I stood outside the other night, soaking in the cool night air, waiting for my dog to finish his business. Usually, it’s quick out and in and off to bed. Not tonight. The clear night sky was sparkling with stars, scattered across the distant universe, all blinking at me. I heard the toads croaking nearby, the geese clucking in clusters in the swamp behind the woods, and, my favorite sound of a summer evening, the whip-poor-will. I’ve noticed these things before: the panorama of the night sky, the gentle sounds of a summer evening. Was it my imagination? Or was everything more intense? More vivid for my subtle perception?

I have noticed a deeper sense of quiet during the lockdown: fewer cars on the road, fewer aircraft overhead. I love it. In the morning, I even hear the rooster call, the cock-a-doodle-doo transmitting the distance of over a mile to reach my ears.

Living in the country has its bonuses, but my sensory perception has definitely intensified during the lockdown. Even my writing has become more descriptive.

How about you? Are you exploring descriptive passages more deeply than before the lockdown? Does the mantel clock’s ticking sound more insistent, its chime more dignified? Is the bread baking in the oven smelling richer, making your stomach growl louder in anticipated hunger?

I find my writing has also become more reflective (like this post). The sound of the clock ticking evolved into a simple personal memoir story (creative nonfiction) about the family’s grandfather clock (which I inherited). The same clock I sit in front of multiple times a day; the same clock whose ticking and chiming counts the minutes and the hours of my writing. It’s my ticking muse.

My precious white oak tree, taller by the year, stronger, too, became another story, this one for a gardening blog, about the myths and solidity of the grand old oak.

Aromas and tastes spark memories that evolve into stories. A mouthful of extra dark chocolate (pure and smooth) explodes the senses as I think of chocolate stories to write, to share. Things I see, like the night sky, inspired more creativity. The powerful storms cascading through our space may disrupt my sense of equilibrium, but these, too, inspire stories, inspire creative descriptive passages, even creative dialogue. Why dialogue? Because we humans (writers and all) like nothing better than to talk about the weather.

And yard work? There’s always lots to do outside. Even those who live in apartments can enjoy some outdoor gardening adventures, either by leasing a plot or by growing a potted garden. Either way, there’s lots to do outside, even during a lockdown. My yard, just under an acre of land, is another creative venture that has sparked countless stories, from my great grandfather’s rhubarb to the early spring flowers like the trout lilies and false Solomon seal, Rodger’s flower and the bugloss. The great outdoors revives creativity in so many ways.

There’s plenty to write about all around us. And, I do believe the sensory parts of our genetic makeup are heightened in awareness during this lockdown. We need to use it all to our advantage.