18th August

Although there have only been a couple of downpours in the last twenty-four hours, everything feels different. The air is fresher and the scent of petrichor is sweet and strong. Many of the bushes and trees that were beginning to droop have revived a little and a hazel bush with entirely burnt leaves is pushing out little green buds as if trying to make up for lost time.. A party of eleven or twelve visiting pigeons have flown in from the town and are busy in their corner of the Green. The residents are keeping well out of the way. The grey clouds seem to be those jolly, bumbling sort like a grey bearded old uncle, always playing games at inappropriate moments. But sometimes, accidentally on purpose, letting the sun shine through warmly. The green sea is as choppy as a cheese grater under a playful breeze. A tortoiseshell butterfly is buffeted along the clifftop. And a man and his son are flying a big red yellow and blue kite which corkscrews and slews across the sky. As he he runs to pick it up, he says “It’s the day for it.” and launches it again skywards. The year is moving towards another change of season.

From 18th August 2021

The horizon is sharply delineated by a band of dark, slate grey sea. In front of that is a band of polished silver that fades into the soft pewter colour of the rest of the bay. And as below, so above. A dark scrawl of purple cloud at the horizon with bright white cloud before that while the rest of the sky is the usual lumpy grey. But where the sun pierces through from time to time, puddles of gold chase across the bay. The air is warm but then a little breeze rattles the leaves and the air is filled with a fine drizzle.

From August 18th 2011

A forlorn helicopter has just shrugged its way past through the low clouds and driving rain.