My children return to school and my wife, perhaps, to sanity. My work continues along with most other aspects of life. Playing the mandolin has not been allocated enough time since I got back from sailing, and I seem to be getting worse at making bread - I forgot the salt last time, which was not an improvement.
Generally I am finding myself unproductive. I sit and think, but doing is not starting well. I found a solution a couple of years ago in The Artists' Way, a process I might repeat in order to rediscover productivity. I didn't follow the whole programme, and I was forced to edit out the God bits, since I don't go there, but the process of writing morning pages was quite successful in my case. In order to write though I have to do my chores in the evening and get up before the house stirs; not simple with children around.
There are warnings of gales in sea areas Dover, Wight and Portland. I believe the air was clocked at around 80 mph yesterday near the Needles. We've had a few days of blow and bluster; some of it quite wet. And, blast them, people are calling Autumn. Although I do not have an active dislike for autumn, indeed it is often a pleasure to watch the leaves turn, the canopy clear and the road verges open up long sight-lines, permitting more active driving styles, I do not enjoy the turn of summer into autumn. The closing light of evenings, the death of another year, my Birthday approaching and then, bloody Christmas ;).
The sky outside is like sliding marble, looking flat despite a few darker patches below an almost complete, thin layer of high cloud. Grey to palest blue and just beginning to show the, still green, tree-line in silhouette.
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