I spent today hiking. There were boats involved, and a slightly worrying wrong turn wherein my co-hiker and I scrambled to be unlost.
My mind latched on to something I was saying somewhere around the second field of rock, and won’t let go. It thinks the idea wants to be a poem, but my brain is wondering about a story. This is what I do now, apparently: have ideas any old where. At my desk, painting; crunching gravel on a hiking path; drinking hot chocolate that feels like silk.
Nothing is sacred, apparently. Today I was switched off, 98% of the day. I still managed to have an incident where I should really have dug out my notepad, scribbled down the ideas I was mentally writing even as we hopped over moss-covered rocks and shot photos.
Also, I’ve just interrupted my regular blog schedule to tell you this. Perhaps you’d like a more comprehensive picture of the hike later?