By Nan Henry

This is the story of my storytelling stick. Each item tied to the stick reminds me of my afternoon walk. The items I have selected may not make sense to you yet. But as I recount the details of my walk, you’ll understand why each item on my storytelling stick represents something special I saw this afternoon.

The blue and white beads tied to the top of the stick remind me that the sky was blue with just the occasional cloud.

Next, I’ve tied on a rock. My street is having its water pipes replaced and the road has been torn up. There are many temporary patches. This rock was from one of those patches.

It was very windy. The feather reminds me of how things were flying around in the wind.

A Redbud twig with its beautiful bright pink buds can only mean that it’s spring!

A lot of people were out walking their dogs. In my neighborhood, pet owners are very good about picking up pet waste. That is represented by the little bit of plastic bag.

On a sunny afternoon, many parents were out with their children getting fresh air or exercise, enjoying the afternoon while keeping their distance from other families. The locust bean pod shakes like a rattle and reminds me of those children.

The last memento is mulch from the now-empty playground by the school. People are playing in the field or bicycling on the path, but not touching play equipment others might have touched.

This stick is now like a pictorial journal. If I had collected the items and not looked at them for weeks, I might have forgotten what they represent. But I have shared my story with you soon after the walk and told you all about my storytelling stick. Because I revisited the memory and described all the different objects, in a week or two, I will still recall what each of these objects signifies. I will still be able to tell you and others about my afternoon walk during a time of social distancing.

So that is my memory from today’s walk through my neighborhood. I collected items and arranged them on a storytelling stick to prompt my recollection of my afternoon stroll. Perhaps you could use those events and weave them into a tale of fiction. Once upon a time . . . .