On Working and Spring

[Peg Herring]

I Meant To Do My Work Today
by Richard LeGallienne

I meant to do my work today,
But a brown bird sang in the apple tree,
And a butterfly flitted across the field,
And all the leaves were calling me.
And the wind went sighing over the land,
Tossing the grasses to and fro,
And a rainbow held out its shining hand,
So what could I do but laugh and go?

That's how yesterday felt. As a result, I have a red neck, sunburned thighs, a half-mowed lawn, and the same number of pages to edit as I had the day before. It was worth it, though.

I've written here before about percolation, and I think there are stages in writing where a person should stop and let it settle, let the brain work on it in the subconscious rather than the conscious segment. Maybe even read someone else's work, something that inspires one to better writing (right now it's Laurie King's THE BEEKEEPER'S APPRENTICE, an excellent continuation of the Sherlock Holmes story).

There are days when I must do something else, and on those days I often feel guilty, as if I'm neglecting my work. But other times, it just seems right to listen to the brown bird, the one hiding among apple blossoms that appeared magically overnight and now fragrance everything.

[Peg Herring]

Thanks, I'll just consider it an early start to the holiday weekend!

[J. F. Juzwik]

What a wonderful post, and so true too. Sometimes looking at our work with a refreshened eye makes a world of difference.