We’ve just come out of a record cold snap. For a day or two, Atlanta had lower temperatures than Anchorage. It wasn’t the kind of weather we were expecting when my husband built a fishpond and waterfalls in the back yard.
It was odd to see fish swimming around under the ice. After a few days and nights of sub-freezing temps, the ice was so thick that we couldn’t see the fish anymore. They’re just goldfish, 37 cents apiece, but I felt just as sorry for them as if they’d been expensive koi. My husband assured me that they were tough little things and they would be fine, down in the unfreezable depths.
He was right. When the weather warmed, there they were again, little orange darts flashing around under the thinning ice. The ice broke, and he threw in some fish food. They were all over it, healthy and hungry.
It made me think of writer’s block. Once in a great while, I get stuck. My thoughts are frozen, and any ideas I’d had seem to have sunk to the bottom of the pond. But cold snaps never last long, and those ideas are still swimming around in the unfreezable depths, waiting for the right moment to surface and be fed.
(My metaphorical goldfish are enjoying lovely temps right now, swimming close to the surface and demanding lots of attention. Just in case you were wondering.)
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