I’m writing outside today. My dog lies on the steps a few feet away intently watching the squirrel at the bird feeder. There are at least a dozen sparrows in the same tree as the squirrel. They were at the feeder first when I filled it a few hours ago. Now they sit watching the squirrel devour their lunch. There are butterflies dancing around me, too.
Ah, summer writing. Am I working? Sure am. But how wonderful to be surrounded by nature, taken out of my writing now and then, to watch the antics of the birds, the squirrel, or my pooch.
Not all of my work can take place on my deck. But today, I am thankful that this work – the work on my novel – can. I will savour this feeling and revisit it a few months from now when the cold and snow return…