Thursday, May 20, 2004

A moment of calm 

It’s a beautifully still and peaceful evening; I’m sitting in a rocking chair next to the patio doors, making the most of the fading daylight – or at any rate, I was when I wrote this out longhand. I have only feline company and he’s asleep (well there’s a surprise), so the only sound in the house is the fridge quietly humming. Outside, the warm sun of the last few days has given way to more typically English greyness – an overcast sky from which a light but steady rain falls.

Immediately outside the window is a collection of greenery – I confess I don’t know the names; my wife is the gardener, I’m just the labourer who does the heavy stuff out there. Anyway, knowing the names doesn’t add anything to the appreciation of colour, texture and form. I can just hear the steady background patter – cliché it may be, but there really is no better word - of the rain dancing on leaves. There’s little wind, but the leaves are in constant motion; water collects, gathers into a droplet and runs off the end of a leaf, which springs back as its load is released, whilst below another leaf twitches at the little hammer blow from the falling droplet. The bush seems to twinkle as this little scene is played out randomly all over it.

All in all, it’s a very calming feeling, and I’m greatly appreciative of it. After days of silence here, all of a sudden there is much to say. Oh, nothing world shattering, I haven’t found the answer to the Ultimate Question (anyway, we all know that is 42…), just some little insights that have meaning for me. So I’m hoping that on this peaceful evening – the first such available time for some while – I’ll be able to write some of them down.

I’ll be back later – or if not then, tomorrow.

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