puddleshark

The wind is back in the south-west, finally - finally! - cold & lively, and bearing a surprise gift of blustery showers. After months of murky horizons and everything being covered in dust, the air is washed clean. In the village this morning, the scent of rain-battered lavender. Out in the forest, all the spider webs hung with raindrops.

I have been playing hide-and-seek with the rooks in the sea fog up on St Alhelm's Head.

( Not a glimpse of the sea )

Stopped off at Spetisbury on Saturday to see the River Stour, which has developed a sudden ambition to become one of the great rivers of Europe...

( Water, water everywhere... )

Darkness all day. Torrential rain. The roads were awash on my drive into work this morning (in the dark), and were even more awash on my drive home from work this afternoon (in the dark).

The person who designed my car had a misanthropic streak. Made it almost impossible for any human to remove the casing that covers the rear brake lights. Made it so that if, as you are walking away from your car, you accidentally press the button on the key fob and hold it for a few seconds, all the windows will wind down. I cannot tell you how many times I have done this accidentally without noticing.

I did it today, left all the windows open, with the rain blowing sideways on the wind. Luckily a work colleague noticed and alerted me before too much time had passed. But the dashboard was soaked, and the rain may have got to the electronics, as the airbag warning light is now on. The seats are all soaked, and I wonder when they will ever dry out - April or May, perhaps?

I was tempted by the pelargoniums for sale at the Secret Garden, and couldn't resist bringing one home:


'Lady Scarborough'.

But I don't think Lady Scarborough is that impressed by her new surroundings. Perhaps she was expecting a stately home and an orangery. She has not been very generous in the matter of flowers. But the scented leaves are wonderful: crush a leaf and the lemon scent is strong enough to make you blink.

The Volunteers' Garden on the other hand is flourishing. A small area in bright sunshine, full of plants that planted themselves: Lady's Mantle, Lemon Balm, Marjoram, Mint. They have been flowering away madly, attracting bees and hoverflies, and little Mint Moths.

***

Yesterday was grey and grim and cold. Not a glimpse of the sun all day.

But driving into work this morning, the sky was suddenly a pure blue, cloudless. And it felt very peculiar. Like I had gone to sleep in January and woken up in July.

***

I dreamt of my old mare Charm last night. She was inside the house. It didn't seem strange. And when it was time for her visit to finish, I turned her out into a field where the other ponies were waiting. A field of lush green grass. No restricted grazing. There are no electric fences in the afterlife, apparently.

The Moon made a brief appearance this morning, before the cloud swallowed it up for breakfast.

The sun too has been appearing momentarily, and when it does, I think "I should quickly head out with the camera..." But before I can even put my boots on, it's raining again. Stair rods.

The wind is in the southwest, sending weather at us faster than we can dodge.

Well, the Met Office got it utterly and gloriously wrong this morning...

( Anyone who lives in a place where it snows every winter may want to skip this one... )