For a few hours everyday I wear rubber boots and blue overalls, spring has come, the ground has dried, no longer does my wheelbarrow sink into the mud. Worry not, I am not yet ready to write about my love-Hate relationship with this one-wheel rusty metallic contraption.
Spring is one amazing season for the promise encased in buds, the energy awaiting the moment to burst into leaf and flower and twig. A zillion blessings.
The cherry trees are in blossom too now but the bare branches of the blackthorns always remarkably burst into flower before any single green leaf has appeared.
It has been perfect reading outside weather if a little too bright, the plan was to immerse myself back into Walden as was discussed there, and I duly retrieved the volume from my bookshelves and read the first two pages half a dozen times each time getting up to do stuff around my own pond. I have been in working-outside mode, building/fixing sheds and painting abstract murals (happy), fixing and inventing solutions, fencing, picking wild stuff to eat (more on that soon hopefully, dandelion, wild garlic, nettle, gifts all).
In short did not yet sit back with Thoreau but did reread a short Stefan Zweig novel when I was without children. Outside life, thinking about things that grow and animals that call out to me for food, but come Friday I am due to talk about my life as a publisher and my intense involvement with books, I will need to scrub the soil off my nails, take the good clothes out and remember who it is I am indoors, who I am/what it is I do with paper. No wonder I drew myself as an octopus recently. I am really looking forward to the event, listening and learning from others, and the pleasure of speaking about what I love.