Monday. Unexpectedly, it rained most of the day—a fine, spitty drizzle that dampened the leaves and grass, but made the inside feel cozy and warm.
Neal dropped Penny off for a “play date” with Ernie, and they had lots of races and tussles. Ernie puts up with her quite beautifully.
I spent most of the morning working on a rewrite of Freya’s first chapters, in order to establish a stronger trajectory of her goals and the opposition she will face. I’m still not sure I have it in hand, but at least I’m back to working. Lorin will help me on Wednesday with ways to strengthen the story. I hope.
It helps that I found a board in the garage that will act as a table across my leather chair. I don’t like writing with my iPad on my lap; I think the electrical impulses affect my legs somehow. They feel all jittery. Probably just my imagination.
By late afternoon the rain had not abated, but I knew I’d better get out walking the trails, or else I’d not be able to close my exercise rings (Apple Watch—that thing runs my life. In a good way). So I put on my rain coat, neck scarf, and gloves, and headed out down the south loop of Rice Creek.
What a lovely walk. So quiet and solitary—no one else on the trails. Everything damp and fresh, with muted colors. Walked for an hour and thought of C. S. Lewis, who walked often and claimed it helped him work out things in his mind. I felt the power of that on this walk. Solitude is underrated. I wish I could work something of that into Freya’s story, but it might not have a dramatic enough impact. Yet so necessary for kids to get off by themselves, alone, no phone or internet. It’s where ideas are born and character is solidified.
Some beauty even on this grey, wet day:
Phil is still feeling under the weather from the respiratory virus, so he did not come. I wish he would take a couple of days off from the gym and working out so hard.
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