Time out of time is great for writing. But things are moving on too fast.
A friend who’s a keen gardener said the other day how much she’s looking forward to the spring. I enjoy all the seasons but this time after Christmas when things seem to be suspended for a while is perhaps my favourite time for writing. I don’t want things to hurry on.
Nature isn’t going to wait while I get on with my work though. A thrush started singing in the apple tree back of the house in early January. In early February the blackbird began warbling from the rooftops. It’s a delight to hear them – but it feels too soon.
By February 7 the magnolia tree in front of the white house in the picture was already showing buds.
Primroses were out before Christmas!
These narcissi are in the shade so haven’t opened yet.
Is it early for crocuses? These are also in the shade. The ones in the front garden that catch the early sun opened weeks ago. Snowdrops have been and gone.
This is how it is in West Dorset, on the south coast of the UK, between one storm and another.
What’s it like where you are?
And … back to writing fiction. I’ve left a character in a perilous state and there’s something I can do about that, while there’s still time.