If you’re saying to yourself ‘wow it’s been a bit since the last club keepsake’ trust me I know! I have been held prisoner by winter, and not just any part of winter but the March part, which is historically the most taxing because you’re fooled into thinking it’s spring. I’m a well-documented spring girl, so you can imagine the panic I’ve felt every time the weather app drops another twenty degrees.
I’m writing now from the safety of true spring. It’s drizzling out my window and I just washed some strawberries and put them in a little strawberry bowl. There are buds on the trees and I want to make things bloom the way the season does.
previously on club keepsake
In our time apart the bulletin board has been full of activity! I set forth prompts in our last edition of club keepsake and received some beautiful responses.
“Make: if you haven’t made a collage yet you haven’t been paying attention but I still implore you to do one (physical if you can but digital works!) ahead of the rest of 2025.”
“Write: You walk into the woods and see a small clearing in the trees. There is a white and pristine box sitting on the blankets of moss. Sun dapples through the branches above and makes it shine. You begin to approach it and suddenly you’re struck with a feeling…is it elation? Fear? What’s in the box? Is something supernatural watching you? Have fun with this and try it out even if this isn’t your usual style of writing, it could teach you something about the way you think.”
Maja (stillloading) for the write prompt:
The forest around me hums with life. Bees buzzing, birds above flapping quick wings. The moss is soft under my bare feet, the trees old and knowing. In the small clearing ahead, a box sits. It gleams in the sunlight, out of place amongst the green.
My heartbeat quickens. The weight of the box pulls me like a magnet, and I ache to open it; to claim it as mine. My thoughts swirl as I imagine its contents.
I approach it, studying the cube closely as images of splendor occupy my mind. Jewels, gold, money? What treasures lie before me?
As I come closer, however, softly stepping on the green forest floor, a weight pulls heavy on my chest. I begin to notice the contrast between the box’s sharp, plastic edges and the yielding moss beneath.
The box is separate, synthetic - incongruous with the pulsing life around it.
The weight of the decision before me brings forth a coat of cold condensation to my palms. I look at the green leaves all around me, I listen to the soft and steady hum of the crickets. I feel the supple undergrowth that supports my bare feet. The heartbeat in my chest that tells me I am alive.
And with a calm step, I turn away. I leave the artificial box behind, stepping back into the pulsing forest that welcomes me.
April Prompts
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