What if an Ocean post did not always begin with breakfast? What if it ended that way instead?
When I travel, most often I post in the morning, or at lunchtime. When I'm home, I'll wait until the day ends. After dinner is cleared, dishes are washed, I sit down with my laptop and pick some threads that will make up a story of a day.
Well now, what could be wrong with that? I'm carrying in my mind fresh images, my work is behind me -- I have a stretch of unencumbered time.
The problem is an obvious one -- daily blogging, started oftentimes after 9 in the evening, drags into hours of fighting sleep. You'd think I will have produced a chapter of a book rather than just three or four sentences. The mind is fuzzy. The word flow stagnates. Oftentimes, I just cannot stay awake enough to give my few sentences a final edit. My inner voice screams at me -- it's fine, let it go! It's nearly midnight, get some sleep! And of course, it's not fine and I wake up in the middle of the night picking up my laptop to correct the overlooked mistakes.
It's protracted and worse - I have no edge left in me then. If my day is simple, my sentences are even simpler.
Time to try a new approach! Save the late evening for such brainy work as paying bills and mending rips where there shouldn't be rips. Or work then on putting together my Polish citizenship papers -- that should fill up most late hours of the year! (Oh yes, that process is still in full swing.) But if I have something to write, let me do it early. Do it before the wind dies down and the dreamy drowsy world takes hold.
So, let's see how it works:
I wake up early, to a steamy day. The one that tells us that if anyone is to do work outside, better do it now, because by noon we'll all turn into limp rags. Hot and humid -- that's the forecast.
Ed drags out the cart and loads wood chips. The cleared soil on the raspberry patch needs to be covered now. That's his hefty task. Me, I just need to do a little composting.
I note the flowers that are bold today...
...and the dainty patterns of color that still define the bed in front of the porch.
But I also throw an appreciative nod to the flower bed we created just this year -- the one that leads from the farmhouse to the sheep shed. Its blooming period is mostly finished and yet it still looks strong -- no longer naked and scant.
And then it's breakfast and the weary guy comes in -- feet blackened by dirt, hair falling wildly to the back of the head, ready for a morning meal. Breakfast on the porch.
When I travel, most often I post in the morning, or at lunchtime. When I'm home, I'll wait until the day ends. After dinner is cleared, dishes are washed, I sit down with my laptop and pick some threads that will make up a story of a day.
Well now, what could be wrong with that? I'm carrying in my mind fresh images, my work is behind me -- I have a stretch of unencumbered time.
The problem is an obvious one -- daily blogging, started oftentimes after 9 in the evening, drags into hours of fighting sleep. You'd think I will have produced a chapter of a book rather than just three or four sentences. The mind is fuzzy. The word flow stagnates. Oftentimes, I just cannot stay awake enough to give my few sentences a final edit. My inner voice screams at me -- it's fine, let it go! It's nearly midnight, get some sleep! And of course, it's not fine and I wake up in the middle of the night picking up my laptop to correct the overlooked mistakes.
It's protracted and worse - I have no edge left in me then. If my day is simple, my sentences are even simpler.
Time to try a new approach! Save the late evening for such brainy work as paying bills and mending rips where there shouldn't be rips. Or work then on putting together my Polish citizenship papers -- that should fill up most late hours of the year! (Oh yes, that process is still in full swing.) But if I have something to write, let me do it early. Do it before the wind dies down and the dreamy drowsy world takes hold.
So, let's see how it works:
I wake up early, to a steamy day. The one that tells us that if anyone is to do work outside, better do it now, because by noon we'll all turn into limp rags. Hot and humid -- that's the forecast.
Ed drags out the cart and loads wood chips. The cleared soil on the raspberry patch needs to be covered now. That's his hefty task. Me, I just need to do a little composting.
I note the flowers that are bold today...
...and the dainty patterns of color that still define the bed in front of the porch.
But I also throw an appreciative nod to the flower bed we created just this year -- the one that leads from the farmhouse to the sheep shed. Its blooming period is mostly finished and yet it still looks strong -- no longer naked and scant.
And then it's breakfast and the weary guy comes in -- feet blackened by dirt, hair falling wildly to the back of the head, ready for a morning meal. Breakfast on the porch.
