We went away for the weekend.
No biggie.
A drive rather than a flight.
A home rather than a hotel.
Bathing suits rather than, well, clothes.
The kids had kids to play with.
The dog had dogs to play with.
We had grown ups to play with.
(…and discuss candidates and delegates with, and schools and sports and religion and grandmothers and art.)
We enjoyed a yard.
A pool.
An actual kitchen.
I could feel myself wind down at the cellular level.
And when that happens, the mind unravels.
I mean, in a good way.
All the everyday knots and plans and preconceptions spread out into a sort of marshy meadow.
Idea-ready.
It was a quirky little slip of the tongue — in the midst of one of our quirky little conversations — but there it was.
Just ripe for the taking.
A word.
That could be name.
That could be a character.
I’m trying to maintain a little marsh state here, to see where it takes me…
Oh I love it when this happens. Sometimes we just need to slow down long enough to let something in. Have fun with it, wherever you may go.
Thanks, Susan!
I love the marshy meadows. Dig in.
You could put on your wellies and join me, Kristy 🙂
Oh, baby, I’ve been playing in a marshy meadow mud bog all the livelong day. I’ve added about 4000 words to my WIP in the past week or so, which is a lot for me!
Wahoo!!!
Oh, that little marsh state is SO GOOD…….
I know. Enjoying, enjoying, enjoying. Messy though it may be…
TadMack says: 🙂
Ooh, this is the exciting bit. Happy percolating…
It sounds lovely, Liz. I hope you come away from it with lots of wonderful new ideas!
Liz, I’m on blog-break this week (to get caught up on reading!), and I figured that meant reading others’ blogs, too, but I had to stop by here.
Anyway, did you see my post from last Friday on Naomi Shihab Nye’s new book? I’m not trying to drive traffic here to the blog; I promise. But you’d probably love the subject matter of her new anthology (there’s some short prose, too). She sings the praises of not doing anything and bemoans the problem of muchness. Sounds like you had a good weekend of laying low, not doing much, and heeding her advice.
“Marshy meadows” — me likey.
Have a good week!
Jules
7-Imp
Yea, Liz! Sounds like just what you needed (whether anything ever comes of that word or not)!
marshy muses
or musey marshes. Whichever we call it I’m glad to know we just need to slow down long enough to actually hear her knocking.