Not writing this blog for a long time fits in with all my other delays on writing projects. I wouldn’t say I hit a writer’s block so much as lost interest in writing at all. The here and now has been so intense there as been little time for reflection. Writing is about having the space to turn and ponder on stuff and reshape it. I haven’t had the mind space and I certainly have not been able to make it into something else. And, until recently, I am not sure I believed in my writing any more. Given the choice, and I did have choices, for the last few months I would rather read.
But today is a day to record my joy in walking the dog was moderated by having to negotiate nettles more than six feet high; to celebrate a garden full of butterflies and a red kite investigating the harvested field beyond our hedge; to ponder on how the sun encouraged me to take off my shirt bask in the rays but the attention of horse flies made me put it back on again. The roses are blooming. The hens have no more idea than we do and make a dive for the remnants of chocolate cake before sullenly turning their attention to the mixed grain. Is it a positive sign that the wasps like my Brewdog Nanny State non-alcoholic beer as much as I do?