Sorry to be late with this. I wrote it last night and was looking for a suitable picture to attach when I was sidetracked by a conversation on talley sticks, and taxation then and now. Yup, that really does happen 'round here sometimes. Much fun was had by all. :)
But I wrote, continuing in the spirit of whatever is on my mind, about gardening.
If weeding burned a lot of calories, I'd be sylph-like, especially as I actually like it, which is not true of most other forms of exercise. If sitting around reading and writing was healthy for the body, I coulda been an Olympic contender!
I'm not at all tidy by nature, but I enjoy being down on my kneely pad plucking weeds out from among the plants I want to keep. Some of the "weeds" are actually plants I do want to keep in other places, such as California poppies and foxgloves. Victoria does tend to lead to a bountiful garden.
This sort of peaceful activity -- when the rugby players aren't howling in the nearby park, or someone isn't plying a leaf-blower -- is a great time to let the creative mind drift around in the hope it'll snag some useful flotsam. Except that'd mean I'd be looking for ideas other writers have tossed.
(From Wikipedia: Traditionally, Flotsam and jetsam are words that describe goods of potential value that have been thrown into the ocean. There is a technical difference between the two: jetsam has been voluntarily cast into the sea (jettisoned) by the crew of a ship, usually in order to lighten it in an emergency; while flotsam describes goods that are floating on the water without having been thrown in deliberately, often after a shipwreck.)
Hey, that's the answer to the question, "Where do you get your ideas?" From other authors' discards. I tossed one away the other day. If I could remember it I could wait to spot it in someone else's book. :)
This is a splendid idea because there's usually nothing wrong with the idea; it's just not for me.
But I get good ideas, too. My one short SF story, The Fruit Picker came to me when I was picking raspberries. (I have raspberries coming into fruit in the garden here for the first time. I don't know why I waited so long. I always grow raspberries.) But working down the row in the sun, picking the day's crop, I came up with a world which had gone vegetarian, but then the plants objected to being eaten and used all kinds of tricks to avoid being harvested, so a fruit picker was actually a fruit hunter.
So I enjoy this time of year in the garden, but it's rough on the hands even if I use gloves. And, of course, I always end up unconsciously abandoning them at some point. They say we authors should have nice-looking hands at signings because people look at them but when the literacy signing at the RWA conference rolls around in July, my hands are a hopeless cause.
I'll post a picture later in the day.
To our friend, the plants!
Jo
I put this in the Jo Beverley category, so we'll see how that works.