I must have spring fever. I can’t seem to settle down and write, although I am so nearly finished with the first draft that I can see me writing “The End.”
But blue skies and balmy temperatures lure me outdoors. Instead of revising paragraphs, I’ve been pruning trees. It took three days, but I topped all the fig trees to a height where I can pick the fruit before the squirrels get them later on this summer. I had to stand on a step stool and reach over my head, so it was slow going. Lots of rest time. I keep a lawn chair back there so I can sit and admire my progress.
I say fig trees, but it originally was one tree. Then Hurricane Hugo came and laid it flat. There didn’t seem to be anything we could do about it, so it stayed that way. Eventually, the log took root in the soil and from it sprang a little forest of fig trees. These grew, as I mentioned, to a towering height that only squirrels could reach.
So I decided to cut back the brush that had grown up since Hugo’s visit and veiled from sight the extent of the new growth. Now that I have cleared the undergrowth and trimmed the trees it looks so inviting I plan on replacing my aluminum-and-web chair with a sturdy bench. I envision it as a bower, giving me shade to read under, and in time pluck a fig from its branches to enjoy along with my book. (You may notice I’m ignoring the accompanying mosquitoes and other creepy-crawlies. They don’t go along with my vision.)
But that’s in the future. Right now I need to get back to that other job that beckons and finish the darn book!
So do I work indoors or outside?
Maybe a little of both, letting the weather dictate my choices.
It’s all about balance.