Sneezewort against a leaden grey sky, Hannaborough

Sneezewort against a leaden grey sky, Hannaborough

The rain has washed-out, or at least diluted, any cogent thought in my head. I made a pact with myself that I wouldn’t mention the weather too much this summer – after all, my explosions of sodden thought and drenching words last year exhausted the whole gamut of wet noun, verb, adjective, adverb, preposition, analogy and simile – official and invented. But, suffice to say, it’s getting to me.

Not just the rain; I’m okay with that – the waterproofs, the wellies and the squelching-squalching exuberance of just getting wet. No, it’s the dark this ‘summer’. The grey. The lack of light.

This morning I opened an eye and sensing the still dim light thought ‘Oh good, it’s early’ and snuggled back into warm cosy bedclothes with a sigh. Drifting in a delicious half-dream state, some inner prodding nevertheless made me squint at the clock. I was late! Struggling out of bed I lurched over to the window, where a small lozenge of pearl grey hovered, drew the curtains and peered out. Dark smudged semi-light, fingers of misting rain licking the concrete to deadened lead-grey, rivulets of oily water streaked with sickly yellow clay running down the drive, vegetation hung heavy and lifeless broken down with the weight of water; a couple of rabbits, soaked to the skin, hopped into the sodden tangled disorder of the verge; no vitality nor vibrancy; dankness and rot dominated. I leant on the window ledge ‘So dark, so gloomy’ I thought ‘I don’t want this anymore on an August summer’s morning’.

I’m a morning person. Generally at my best as soon as I open my eyes. Ideas, thoughts, plans and actions are on the boil, immediate and ready. It’s not an effort to get up – much more of one to stay in bed. But I do have difficulty with dark mornings. Spring and summer with bright zinging dawns are a top-up for my soul; I’m so ready after a seeming eternity of getting up and working through dark winter mornings for the injection of first light vitality and exuberance. Until this year I didn’t realise how important this seasonal top-up was to me. And I’m not getting enough, not in the morning, not in the day and not in the evenings.

Tangled vegitation with drifts of meadowsweet and marsh thistles

Tangled vegitation with drifts of meadowsweet and marsh thistles

Advertisements