We’ve just had a gentle heatwave here in the South of England. The birds have sung from dawn until dusk. My garden is in bloom in the sort of wondrous clashing colours that only nature can pull off with aplomb. And my creativity has returned.
Thus, I’ve written two eco-poems for competitions, plus I know exactly what I’m going to write for three short story competitions. Meanwhile, a twenty by twenty-four-inch canvas is glaring at my back from its easel, if a quarter-painted landscape/seascape can be said to glare. (Yes, canvas, I’m going to retrieve my paintbrushes from the cupboard soon.)
So, what has everybody else been doing or not doing in the last couple of months?
Where is your main focus?
the tree tops, or the sky beyond;
the songs of individual birds, or the bird orchestra;
the breeze on your skin, or the rustling of leaves in the trees;
the aroma of last year’s detritus, or of this year’s verdancy;
the path’s jagged flints, or its earthen firmness.
Or do you focus on the whole?
as a backcloth for your thoughts, or an escape from your thoughts;
as a place of solitude, or a place to share;
as a place to raise your pulse, or a place to lower your pulse;
as a place to seek creative inspiration, or simply a place to be,
as a place from which to zone in, or to zone out.
Who cares to analyse it?
There’s you, there’s me, there’s the woodland,
and it’s one big miracle that we’re all still here,