Off - once a late breakfast is over - to Fountains Abbey, near where I live. It's somewhere I 've visited often, a site I return to over and over again. The incredible thing is that the colour within the abbey stone is subtly different each time, and the mood of the place - from the ruins to the formal expanse of the water gardens and even the expansive deer park- can always surprise.
So do the crowds - from noisy families in holiday weeks, through to earnest historians and even, one cold winter Sunday, when the abbey grounds were "shut for maintenance", a group of guffawing gentlemen in hunting tweeds, with guns over their shoulder, striding off within to do . . .? Maintenence, presumably.
So how does this fit with writing? Because there's always a moment when you hear of another book, usually linked to a bright award winning name, that has a similar subject to yours. Plunge of heart. Despair in the soul. Some definite stamping about and sulking. But just as a landscape can change on each visit, with luck - and careful writing - our own work can have its own life and spirit. Good luck with whatever writerly regions, times and seasons you're visiting just now.