I can only say, writing at this kind of word count has become an addiction, and it’s over two months since I missed a target, and then by only a couple of hundred words as that particular story finished just before the word count reached its mark.
I can report our cherry tree is finally in blossom too, and the sun is shining, which means one thing for me. I have to haul this pasty white carcass outside and hit the garden which has been long neglected through this harsh winter. I did manage to get the lawn mower out yesterday and trim the back lawn, so today it’ll be the turn of the front one, and then start looking at tidying up the shrubs. Everything is about three to four weeks late this year thanks to the miserable weather, the forsythia looks a picture but I suspect the Virginia Creeper is dead and I’m worried about my granddad’s hosta in the front garden. That plant has survived five moves, and three generations of the family – I’m hoping it’s simply late, after all its growth normally follows the cherry tree blooming, which is itself late this year.
Stop press: The Virginia Creeper has buds on it – it’s not dead, it’s alive!