Memories of flower and bird and wind and world, and all the living and all the dead.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Green and golden
I've listened to all my European colleagues yattering on about the long weeks that they've spent down on the Med while I've been waiting. Smugly, you know. Through the long not very nice summer, I've taken long weekends to watch progress on the building work on the house. As the showers came and went, and building was slowed down, my smug smile withered slightly but still hovered a bit Cheshire cat-like. Last week, as the school holidays trickled away, I watched the fields and gardens turn to mud. Still a bit smug but also fearful that those forecasts of wet until November might be true.
But now here I am smug, SMUG, SMUG. On holiday, in Wales with Fern Hill weather.