summer rain
My refurbished deckchair did not make it out of the shed all weekend as it happened. The heavens opened and it rained and rained, it was cold and miserable and we stayed indoors as much as possible, trips outside required layers of clothing and the rustle of waterproofs, the squeak of rubber boots.
Today we have rain but quite a different sort of rain. As I opened the doors this morning to let the dogs out I was surprised to feel a warm air greet me, the sun was not particularly in evidence but the day felt pleasant, I optimistically hung out my washing in spite of the clear evidence of weather rolling down the hills. It was not hugely surprising when I smelled the rain an hour or two later and that's the thing about summer rain, it has this wonderful sweet, muggy scent. Warm and welcome it revives the earth the garden looks glad and air fills with the perfume of grass, rose, honeysuckle and lavender.
Even the rain-hating Setter goes out to survey her lands in this sort of rain. She stands still in the garden, tail poker straight, feathers waving in the breeze, nose twitching, soaking up and reading all those smells.
The summer rain passed on quickly having done its work and now there is no excuse for me not to go and dig up the weeds, the ground will be soft once more and they should pull out easily.
I would rather keep knitting Whisper though, even the agony of 1x1 rib in a lace-weight yarn is more appealing than pulling up the weeds that look so green and lush right now, yet I know if I leave them it will be no time before they stop looking fresh and lovely and grow straggly and weed-like, over-running those more delicate things which need a few more weeks to come into their full glory. So weeding I shall go....
My refurbished deckchair did not make it out of the shed all weekend as it happened. The heavens opened and it rained and rained, it was cold and miserable and we stayed indoors as much as possible, trips outside required layers of clothing and the rustle of waterproofs, the squeak of rubber boots.
Today we have rain but quite a different sort of rain. As I opened the doors this morning to let the dogs out I was surprised to feel a warm air greet me, the sun was not particularly in evidence but the day felt pleasant, I optimistically hung out my washing in spite of the clear evidence of weather rolling down the hills. It was not hugely surprising when I smelled the rain an hour or two later and that's the thing about summer rain, it has this wonderful sweet, muggy scent. Warm and welcome it revives the earth the garden looks glad and air fills with the perfume of grass, rose, honeysuckle and lavender.
Even the rain-hating Setter goes out to survey her lands in this sort of rain. She stands still in the garden, tail poker straight, feathers waving in the breeze, nose twitching, soaking up and reading all those smells.
The summer rain passed on quickly having done its work and now there is no excuse for me not to go and dig up the weeds, the ground will be soft once more and they should pull out easily.
I would rather keep knitting Whisper though, even the agony of 1x1 rib in a lace-weight yarn is more appealing than pulling up the weeds that look so green and lush right now, yet I know if I leave them it will be no time before they stop looking fresh and lovely and grow straggly and weed-like, over-running those more delicate things which need a few more weeks to come into their full glory. So weeding I shall go....
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