Sitting at my desk this morning, searching for inspiration and trying to keep warm as I stared out at the wintery landscape, a blackbird on the tree outside my window nips at the orange berries. There are very few left on the bare branches now. The fat pigeons have taken most of them already, as I’ve sat here watching from my desk, trying to make words appear on pages.
The bird must be freezing; it has been sub-zero temperatures lately, and thin snow and ice lay on the garden, littering the branches of my blackbird’s tree. Yet, I also envy the bird. Its life appears so simple, so uncomplicated. There are berries; he eats the berries. He will come back tomorrow and eat some more, until all the berries have gone. Then where will he go? Maybe he will visit the generous gardeners who buy nuts and fat balls from the shop I work in in my other life, where I need to make money to support this habit of writing. The life when I am not at my desk, but dreaming of being at my desk. Maybe the bigger birds will get there first, leaving the small blackbird to starve.
Even so, as I drag myself back to the page and try to make sense of the work I’m trying to make, today I envy that little blackbird his freedom and simplicity.
As I return to my writing, I try to remind myself to keep it simple, always. To allow myself freedom on the page. To be more bird.
ICYMI, I have a little flash up over at spelkfiction.com called ‘Arrivals’ https://spelkfiction.com/
It’s had some lovely comments left by kind readers, which make it all worthwhile : )