The problem with spring is the opposite of creative block.
It is that it is a peculiarity of my physiology that the more beautiful the weather the less I am able to get out in it.
It is that I hunker down inside my head, detached from everything, fascinated by things going on inside that spinning globe which are unsaleable and almost unshareable.
It is that exteriorizing any thought becomes uncomfortable.
It is that I lose discipline and waste the days that I can work trying to get it back.
It is that I have no deadline to structure the effort and create urgency.
It is that the grass has overnight become too long to mow and I can't tell burdock from sunflower.
It is that the huge drama I make out of every little thing becomes tiresome and I would rather not trouble anyone else with it.
But in time I'll get over it and do what I'm supposed to. I always do.
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