…because tomorrow’s another rainy day (even if the weather forecast disagrees…) On that topic, I spent a few happy hours yesterday rearranging the still room area, and then bringing in chamomile flowers, rose petals and fresh mint for drying. Tomorrow, I thought to myself, I shall bring in some Meadowsweet. The weather is supposed to be mild and dry, and the meadowsweet is just springing nicely into flower. How foolish am I, to think that waiting is a good ides, especially in a summer such as this one! This morning I woke up (in my newly purple bedroom – it has been a busy weekend!) to discover yet more rain, and a damp, gloomy view across the fields outside. Oh well. Back to the drawing board on that one! The moral of the story, my good people, is never put off til tomorrow what you can do today. Especially when the garden is involved – because this is, after all, Britain, country of rain and gloom and general damp soggyness.
On another note – I’ve noticed this year that we divide time rather arbitrarily into four seasons. I say arbitrarily, because it has become more and more evident to me that actually the year is composed of a multitude of tiny seasons – like the season of elderflowers, and the season of blue sky reflected, and the season of meadowsweet, and later on, the season of purple fruits… all of them interconnected, part of a whole, yet each one a single tiny droplet of the year, utterly perfect and utterly individual. Food for thought.
Night falls, and the wind dances,
Moth born and moon silvered
against the flickering skies, and still
Thor rages, lightening splitting the clouds,
thunder resounding through the heavens,
and the rain falls, silver clad, serpentine,
beating against the dry ground, sliding over all in its path,
washing the world clean.