Objectively the summer of 2014 was perfectly fine...subjectively it was miserable...I could not seem to find my center...I went nearly the whole summer without writing anything new...poetry eluded me...no stories percolated.
Yesterday I accidentally hit upon the cause when I took a small table and my journal outside to write in the mellow late afternoon. Most of the summer had either been to glaringly hot, or pouring rain.
Suddenly the words just began to flow...and I realized that this was the first summer that I had not had a porch on which to write in the afternoons...our old house had a covered porch where I would frequently sit, even when it rained, to write...but last September we had the old house (which was a dangerous fire trap and health hazard) demolished and hauled away...leaving only an open yard...lacking shade (except in late afternoon) and cover from the rain.
Now I know that before next summer my sanity requires the purchase of an outdoor umbrella so that I can find that calm center from which to write.