When I walk my dog, which is nearly every day, we take a meandering path leading us through a park and out into the woods. And because dogs aren't too interested in people chatter when they walk, I ponder and reflect. And solve all sorts of problems. Okay, not really. But I work through the problems in my writing.
The tiny tree was growing. Then it broke. In half. Likely in a wind storm last spring. Its main trunk snapped, and its treetop now lies on the ground. But the tiny tree did not die; it did not give up. Inside its tree-self, it decided to keep growing, even though it grows differently than every other tree in the woods. Now, in early fall, the tiny tree has numerous new branches sprouting upwards, as well as the original treetop growing sideways. (Wouldn't this make a perfect picture book?)
Keep the image of my writing tree tucked inside your writing self. This little tree has so much to say. And what do you have to say - are there things you see that inspire what you write?