Monday, 7 May 2012
I'm listening to the rain pounding against the windows, slapping against leaves, not quite believing that I sat on a bench beside the wallflowers for an hour this afternoon, sleeves rolled up, squinting in the sun within the sound of cresting waves while I scribbled on page after page.
That was in between rain and more rain. Any break in the clouds, I've been out that door for a quick walk, but I haven't seen many breaks.
Every stem is drunk with green and the blackbird who had only clucked through this last year has taken to singing in my garden every morning and evening. And it's beautiful.
Yes, I'm sick of getting wet, of having shoes drying out in a row on the boiler and of weeds growing taller and more prolific than everything else. But today, pen and notebook got cracking how they like best and just that hour was enough to restore and refresh ideas that have spent far too many days indoors.
Projects have still been cranking along these last few weeks, but this is better better better.