Right at the beginning of this blog I promised instances of weather. Jay pointed out that so far I only seem to indulge in instances of fine weather and as we are experiencing some of the longest wet weather on record it is probably time to admit that it exists. The wettest June has led us towards what I suspect will be a contender for wettest July. Twice the normal monthly amount of rain for July fell over the weekend, washing pebbles out from the tracks and scattering them across the road through the village.
Even as we pushed our way through the soaking grass, and felt water seep into our clothes, it was easy to be distracted by the beauty of the rain on vegetation. Hog weed umbrellas stand tall by the edges of the fields, still flowering even as the seed heads prepare to scatter next years offerings of new plants.
Pausing by the gate I noticed that even dull aluminium can be charmed by the wet decoration. Rain drops quivered in the slightest of breezes and I was loath to open the gate and send them all cascading into oblivion.
Hoover and I constantly stopped to admire tiny details; rain on grass, which Hoover tried to eat.
When I was little one of my favourite songs at school contained the line – ‘Rain drops are our diamonds’. It was one of my favourite hymns and has remained in my mind over the years, hummed as I walk the hills with Hoover. It also talked of shining sapphire speedwell, buttercup gold, silver daisies and the emerald grass in terms of treasure to value. This morning I certainly felt that, even as the damp crept through my waterproofs and Hoover rattled her ears to prevent water trickling into them.
I know that this rain has brought flooding and misery to many. The lack of light has given me the worst vegetable crop I have ever had, seed failing to germinate, seedlings that cannot thrive, stunted beans that cannot bring themselves to flower. On Saturday the hearty rain brought down a transformer, cutting off all power to our village for most of a day and we had to resort to lighting the wood burner to boil a saucepans of water for tea and to heat food. Unable to use any power we could do no useful jobs, and had to resort to snuggling up on the sofa with books and being idle. We cannot really complain. And today in the sog we have had visual treats.
And what about the writing? Being stuck indoors has kept my nose to the grindstone. And I have a funny feeling that there’s a thunderstorm brewing, about to fall on the heads of my poor hapless family. But they’ll be OK, they’ll find a way to cope.