Plotlines And Plants

Close up of a frilly petalled snowdrop, white petals with green vertical stripes, bright yellow stamens tucked between petals

Wednesday 3rd February 2021
Returned to work on Monday with my lists of little things to achieve each day, to balance the lack of other adventures in this, the third of our UK lockdowns. Checked rota and found myself not working more than usual shift pattern for two weeks consecutively which feels like I am still on holiday. 😊 Yesterday we stocked up on top soil, potting compost, vermiculite; bought seeds for savoy cabbage and tarragon, and I treated myself to new secateurs (lost a pair in the garden somewhere). 💚 We took the van, also picking up an old window which later will be a solar dehydrator and water heater, and wood for replacing the polytunnel door, which was too long for the van. Mr had to borrow a saw and bespoke the lengths in rain so heavy it was near solid. 💧 This morning after stretches and dog walking I lugged new topsoil onto the polytunnel beds, pruned the small apple tree, cooked mushrooms on the woodburner. Right now I am about to brew extra coffee and crack on with novel writing and this writing is a bit of a warm up exercise. Later: everytime I think I’ve sorted this story order out, I haven’t. Reshuffle re-commenced - and yes, this time too I think I have solved it. Need to find the balance between intrigue and giving the reader a hope of finding the plot. Whole chapters are being cut - they may splice in amongst the rest or make random short stories (like I wrote my own fanfic) I cannot tell as yet. Overall: bored of playing, want it done. 💪

Friday 5th February 2021
Third consecutive day of concentrated writing. Am absorbed in other worlds, pulled back to here by demands of stomach and bladder. Yesterday my eyes gave up before my brain ran out of energy. It’s a soul replenishing exhaustion.
Have ventured out for fresh air and to check my limbs remain functional. Rain fell through my thin coat, thoughtfully washing me. Unbothered even to tie up my hair, I leave the wind to sort out styling.
Around the garden snowdrops stand - the beautiful sentinels of my peace - the daffodils are readying their trumpets - I assume in my honour.
The plot lines are pulling: I am summoned and must leave you!
PS: please remind me to plant literal seeds, words won’t grow edibles. 🌿
Small daffodils in bud, growing out of grassy bank,


Hooray for soul replenishing exhaustion. And for gardens - which replenish mine despite the blood, sweat and tears they insist on being fed.
Lisa Southard said…
Exhaustion continues happily! Winter pruning all done, wind so cold it feels like it is trying to prune me back :-)

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