I can stand a little rain

Here comes the sun....

It was a warm and very dry spring here in Norfolk. According to the Met Office, it has been the sunniest spring since records began. There were no shoures soote in Aprill to perce the droghte of March ... to the roote, nor to bathe every veyne in switch licour/Of which vertu engendred is the flour [Pace Geoffrey Chaucer - Ed.]

My garden, my allotment, the fields, the woods - all dry and dusty for weeks on end.

Then, finally, the cool winds blew in some water, soaking slowly through the membrane under my shingle,

Typically this coincided with the day I had to take my car for its MOT,

 

Leaving it in the puddles, to walk home....

Like Joe Cocker, I can stand a little rain, though it may have its downsides:

Like the touch of rain she was

On a man's flesh and hair and eyes

When the joy of walking thus

Has taken him by surprise:

With the love of the storm he burns,

He sings, he laughs, well I know how,

But forgets when he returns

As I shall not forget her 'Go now'.

Edward Thomas

At the end of Common Road, for no particular reason, I am reminded of Geoffrey Willans's Nigel Molesworth, the goriller of 3b and curse of St. Custard's, and his rendition of Tennyson's The Brook, the only one piece of peotry in the English language:

i come from haunts of coot and Hern

i make a sudden sally

and-er-her-er-hem-the fern

to bicker down a valley.

 As Nigel says, when having to attempt the girly activity of reciting, quite frankly I COULDN'T CARE LESS.  What use will that be to me in the new atomic age?

Well, as an ex english master myself, I would chide Molesworth for this point of view, and say you must learn the value of spiritual things....

Though I cannot help but notice that even the fairies have firmly shut their door and windows.....

Ah well, the rain eases off, though it has stripped leaves from the trees and strewn them carelessly about and coursed down the path like the tears of a mighty god:

It has also streamed down the trees in what is known as stemflow, where precipitation funnels down from the canopy through the deep ridges of the tree bark, collecting an assortment of particulates, plant chemicals and air pollutants that have accumulated over the long dry period.

The result is a form of bubbling soap which foams as it is concentrated at the base of the trunk.

So there's magic in the woods, and not just in the splash of colour that denotes the presence of digitalis, noted for its effect on the heart:

There is a magic in the cool silence, where it is almost possible to hear the plants sigh in gratitude for the life-giving water that has fallen from the sky. I can almost hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore.  I shall have some peace..... [Thank you William Butler - Ed.]

Oak leaves are refreshed:

In time of silver rain

The earth puts forth new life again,

Green grasses grow

And flowers lift their heads,

And over all the plain

The wonder spreads

Of Life,

Of Life,

Of life!

Langston Hughes

 

As are the sweet chestnuts:

And I can almost taste the freshness of beech leaves against the light:

While the aroma of bracken and damp leaf mould rises from the ground to wrap me in a natural shawl: 

I look out across the fields towards the clouds, louring over the Wash, dreaming lightly of possible futures:

I walk the beautiful beech avenue where once Amanda walked with me:

I pause by the seat - too wet to sit - where she liked to rest on a Sunday morning:

I pass by the roofless ruin where someone once lived, and maybe died:

I hear leaves drinking rain; 

I hear rich leaves on top 

Giving the poor beneath 

Drop after drop; 

'Tis a sweet noise to hear 

These green leaves drinking near.

And when the Sun comes out, 

After this Rain shall stop, 

A wondrous Light will fill 

Each dark, round drop; 

I hope the Sun shines bright; 

'Twill be a lovely sight.

W H Davies

And then the sun surfaces through the clouds and scatters diamonds of light across my path, cheering my way forward, towards a refreshed life, perhaps.....  A lovely sight indeed.....

Here comes the sun

And I say, It's all right.....

George Harrison

Dance on, buttercup jackdaws

For Hannah May Blacknell Gibbs 

35 today

xx

A Day in the Life

November Song

The clocks have changed. We are at the tail end of another year. Amanda is wandering in the night.  I take this picture at around five a.m. She sips a glass of water and nibbles a biscuit, then we go back upstairs and try the toilet.  Then she snuggles down for another couple of hours, while I lie restless.

Then it is tea time, and proper waking time.

Followed by some washing and a little breakfast before dressing up to go out.

Twice a day we take her out, whatever the weather - sometimes it's me, though we also have kind carers who vary the diet.

Sometimes we go down to RSPB Snettisham, where whirling waders entertain us as the tide washes them from the mud:

Though Amanda is often more interested in the huddles of twitchers:

Other days we go to the beaches of the North Norfolk coast, where shadows are long 

and space is unlimited:

Sometimes we happen on something dead, like this Guillemot, and I think how peaceful it seems....  No need to worry about death, perhaps, (though dying is a different thing):

Anyway, a couple of hours is usually enough for her, and we need to get back to have a snack, a drink and a clean up.  Then she will snooze until I prepare something for lunch:

Lunch is nothing much - sometimes we have an omelette, or some soup; on other days it is just bread and ham, and a glass of water.....

And then it is time for another rest......

Before another cup of tea:

Then it is time for another walk, round the village, watching the geese honking their way back from their feeding stations to their roosts on the Wash:

Dusk gathers easily this time of the year.  Sometimes there is a touch of menace in the cloud:

Other days the sundown gleams with a warmth and all seems well:

If our carers permit, this is the hour I can slip away for a pint in the pub:

Where if I am lucky a brief conversation can take my mind off the daily round. On the other hand, some days the craic may leave me adrift:

Then I need to hurry on home in my Bugatti to relieve the carer:

While the geese plough their own furrows overhead:

And then it is time to bath Amanda and to make her a bowl of pasta and peas, or something similar, timed to coincide with The Simpsons (well I like the primary colours.....)

The cats help, or try to, in their own ways:

Mr White

Denmark

Meadow

And Amanda settles, as her dose of Memantine kicks in....

But the world is not at peace.  Outside the pyrotechnics of the curiously extravagant burst under the stars, terrifying the animals and disturbing the slumbers of those who might wish to be quiet....

Why is it that we remember Guido Fawkes?  Could it be because we would really like to blow up the Houses of Parliament?  Given the shenanigans of the last few days that has to be a reasonable assumption......

It's a sorry tale, and the details are unpleasant, but it is curious that we don't have similarly popular celebratory days (or nights) to commemorate Boadicea, or Hereward the Wake, or Wat Tyler, or even the Tolpuddle Martyrs?

But then I may console myself with a plate of duck breast with broccoli and farro, and a glass of red.

Followed by a glass of Armagnac and a page or two of printed matter.....

Before it all starts over again:

I read the news today, oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well, I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph

Lennon/McCartney