I am a prolific writer from late fall to early spring, but as soon as the temperature rises to seventy degrees or above, I have an extremely difficult time applying the seat of my pants to the seat of any surface in my house.
Writing, at least for me, is very difficult during the short New England summer. During this time my concentration and self-discipline are severely impaired and it’s become obvious over the last few years that I may have to consider summering in northern Canada, Siberia or in the worst case scenario, a Russian-manned drifting ice station in the Arctic Circle.
Yesterday I climbed to the top of my roof to wash some skylights which poses absolutely no problems for me in the late fall. At that time I scramble up the ladder, wash the windows and get back down on the ground like any rational person. However, the instant I climb to the top of the house in spring, I find myself in the clutches of a reckless irrationality and this year was no exception.
Deep in the throes of my temporary insanity and dangling from the side of the roof, I snapped a picture of my newest neighbor’s home. Poor Momma Robin seemed horrified to discover that she had built her new home next door to someone so willing to invade her privacy. Now, I can’t be certain as I don’t speak fluent robin red breast, but I’m pretty sure most of what she screeched at me from another tree cannot be repeated in polite company and the word voyeur may have even been tossed out during one of her more colorful rants. 
Then I decided to watch part of a little league game, chat with several neighbors who seemed very concerned about my safety, have a refreshing beverage and text a friend from my iPhone. (It is amazing all the things you can take up to a roof in the pockets of the right sweatshirt.)
Today is another beautiful day. I’ve decided to write outside until noon and pray for no distractions. As long as the hubster remembered to put the ladder away, my feet will stay firmly planted on the ground and there is a distinct possibility I might get some writing done—well, that is after I have a cup of tea, balance the checkbook, pay some bills, take the dogs for a walk and clean that light fixture in the bathroom that has been driving me crazy.
