This morning I woke early, with time to tuck down for a while, listening to the wind and rain battering on my window. Time to dream up new ideas, to plan methods and reasons, stories to justify the making. Exciting, daring ideas, that push boundaries, expanding possibilities.
Enough. Get up, out of bed and begin the day. Light the fire, cook the porridge, talk about the practicalities of farm, animals, water. The realities of every day are the fabric of life.
Later, there is time to think about the pleasure of the early morning idea. The dreaming time has gone. It is time now to test the reality. Where did I put that excitement I had earlier? Cannot be found. The daring has faded, the boundaries spring back into place when pushed. The idea has retreated while I wasn't looking. It could even be dead. I try to breath life into it, but it is just a husk, dried and lifeless.
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