I’d been having a miserable writer’s block.
Nothing seemed to help.
I sang, I danced, I walked around the block, I called my sister. Nada.
Then I set the alarm for 4:45 am and changed where I wrote. Instead of at my regular desk I cleaned out a vacant studio and set up a temporary table for my laptop.
I banished the cat.
I turned off my radio. I opened a patio door and watched the sunshine on the red rocks. And listened to the early morning quail and blue jays chattering in the apricot tree.
And I waited.
Got up and did some stretches. Sat down again. Nothing.
Turned off the Internet. Listened to the painted towhee in the Russian sage.
Watched a rabbit getting a drink of water.
Observed a lizard skittering across the summer-hot rocks.
And was patient.
And finally the words started to flow.
Ah, home, at last!