Does anyone else find that it is during those mundane, often repetitive tasks - in my case, today, the slow, steady turning over of a fallow garden bed - that really interesting creative thoughts arise? And do you also find that by the time the allotted task has been completed, those thoughts have partially evaporated, like the memories that remain of most dreams after waking?
Why, someone asks, do you not record the thoughts on your mobile phone? Oh, if I had a dollar for everytime I've left that thing on the table or the sideboard, having intended only to be outside briefly.
My pen, pencil, and notepad are, of course, comfortably ensconced on the table in my study, awaiting my next session of writing - perhaps I should keep some by each door, to pick up and carry with me into the garden.
Today the journey began with a few steps through the back door to the veranda rail, to watch a wild, noisy game of tip being played by most of the tribe of grandchildren. A few more steps were taken across the deck to the lawn, to have a quiet word with one of the more rough and tumble individuals, and then, well, that fallow bed that I had forked over yesterday had come into view.
Situated with lines of sight across the back yard and a good part of the front, it seemed an ideal place to stand. I could work the loosened weeds free with the long handled claw, and be available for any unexpected (but ever possible) umpiring or first aid duties.
Working quietly but steadily along the bed, soaking up the warm sunshine, chatting with the robins and wrens and honeyeaters that flit about the turned soil seeking morsels to consume at the safety of the fence or a tree branch, checking the apple branches for any sign of budding, and the broccoli for any heads worth picking - all these things calm the mind. It is never long before the half formed ideas of previous writing or thinking sessions come back to the surface - and it is amazing how much of that material is now closer to fully formed.
But then the children all vanish - the noise is coming from somewhere out of sight. Of course - they are being packed into the cars of their respective parents, ready for the journey home. Farewells must be said, and missing shoes, jumpers, hats, and teddy bears rounded up, and all the while, those wonderful creative thoughts are slowly sinking back into the darkness from which they arose, quite forgotten by me - until later, when what remains is just enough to let me know I had something good in mind, but have lost it beyond retrieve.
What is the solution? I could drop the hoe or weeder and dash back inside to record those thoughts, but on a day like today, would most likely be derailed by other inquiries or assignments before reaching my desk. I am not good at carrying the mobile phone with me all the time, no matter how smart and useful it is supposed to be, and the same goes for pen and paper.
I sometimes wonder if I should keep one of those tourist "bum bags" on me at all times, with phone, house key, wallet, pencil, and notepad all within - and perhaps some small binoculars, and a camera, and, well, what else might came in unexpectedly handy? - but that seems so clunky and annoying, and is likely to be put down in the wrong spot and not found again until after a rainy spell. Any suggestions, anyone?
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