But therein lies a problem.
Beer. Sunshine. Alfresco dining. Strawberries and ice cream. Potting. Planting, Growing. Admiring.
There's been very little writing the past fourteen days.
Every time I've stepped on the gravel, viewed the surrounding beauty, a tempting voice in my head coaxes my wallet, 'just one more pot - a small one along side those larger two would look perfect,' 'one more hardy shrub,' 'another flowering sage,' 'more lavender.' And then to the garden centre, my new, bestest hangout. Younger Dad has told me STOP. But I can't help myself. I have a store card. 10% off all plants. A free cup of tea. What's a girl supposed to do eh?
And it's not just flora. I've purchased garden stakes, a Buddha head, a fat stone hippo, a wooden wind chime. The latest buy, a garden table and chairs. Heaven help me....
Do you think I am indoors writing this? Mais non.
I'm sat under the parasol, breathing in the air, blue sky, the hollowed harmonics of the wind chime, pinks, creams, mauve, electric blues. White lavender. Purple lavender. The feathery green acer, the russet red.
The spindly flowers of the tomato plant. The bright orange trumpets of the courgette - the way they suddenly open, then curl in, fingers entwined. The ripening strawberries. The fattening lettuce leaves.
I am so looking forward to a long lazy summer.
Social media is on hold.