With no effort whatsoever-- my imagination took off. I could see everything she read. The wonderful peach tree, the hill, ladybug, the caterpillar...it was all right there in front of me. It was more than magical. It was a gift she provided without even realizing.
Writing something different seems like a cop out because the "job" (ie: the novel, the posts, the articles etc.) aren't getting done but a shift can perhaps provide the break you need.
What we do, as writers, is give a piece of our soul to the reader, or at least we should strive for this. We tell stories that need to be told. We say things that need to be said, even if it is not popular or politically correct.