"Oh for a book and a shady nook..."

I'm feeling rather contemplative and as though I have a gazillion ponderings to ponder, but I wish that they could just pour into this webspace rather than being routed through language and fingers.

The quote above is on a pen I have, and I am suddenly longing for a shady tree in a grassy place with bright sunshine and birds chirping and a span of time stretching out before me like a lonely gravel road. Time to fill with meandering thoughts, putting pen to journal, or pages to turn filled with the wonderings of people far from this place.

I wish I did not waste my time so in inefficiency. I might then have an afternoon to search out said shady tree and grassy place.