Welsh pater is an anagram of the title.
But I digress.
As Mississippi experienced its fleeting Spring, I found a startling amount of free-flowing creativity around water. There's a small body of water near campus that I was able to stop at and get 15 minutes of writing a few days a week. Provided I dropped Baby at my parents' house and left earlier than usual.
Then, two weeks ago, I took off work for a day and went out to a lake in the wilderness. Watched Canada Geese and ducks and lily pads and bass and turtles. Watched loggers fell a dying tree that encroached on the road. I wrote a few pages. I also brainstormed plot arcs. Discarded a few. Melded some others. Cross-pollinated.
Maybe it's got something to do with ions. Or energies. Or seeing God in the world.
I love a lake.