I was up early this morning, always my best time to write. When I wrote my books for teachers, I wrote an hour every morning before heading off to the classroom. Wherever I travel, I try to keep to my normal time schedule. And as you might imagine, traveling alone as a senior, my night life is a minimum.
Today I took advantage of this best writing time by staying in the apartment until mid-morning. By then I was desperate for exercise and in need of inspiration. Robert Louis Stevenson became my muse as I walked through Queen Street Garden to 17 Heriot Row, to gaze at the front door where Stevenson lived during the early years of his life. Looking up at the window, I could almost hear him reading his garden of verses to me. After all, he and I are sharing the same garden. I can almost hear ‘The Lamplighter’ and ‘Night and Day’.