I’m spending Easter out at the folks’ farm, which provides some slightly different surrounds for getting the writing done.  This was the workspace for this afternoon:


The day wasn’t actually as grey as that shot makes it appear.  The sun was in and out of clouds the whole time, but most of the afternoon was T-shirt weather and there were streaks of gold all through that vegetation behind the chair.

Not pictured:

  • your humble blogger, who was the one working the camera;
  • various visitors including a small orange-and-grey bird which I’m told was a Rufus Whistler, a willy-wagtail patrolling the edges of the house, a small skink watching me suspiciously from a fallen branch and a rabbit moping about near the hawthorn;
  • one wannabe visitor, the farm’s excitable border collie who’d have spent the afternoon with her head planted on the keyboard if I’d let her; and
  • the recalcitrant chainsaw whose unco-operative attitude meant that the three-day firewood-cutting party that the Easter weekend was meant to be actually ended up as something rather more sedate.

Still, I can’t complain.  My daily wordage is actually climbing back to levels I’m not entirely ashamed of, and I like to think it was because of the more relaxed setting that I got past a knotty bit of plot setup that had been giving me trouble.  Let’s see if we can keep that going.