The drumming of the rain on the windows took on a staccato beat yesterday afternoon and looking out I found that the lawn was rapidly disappearing under a layer of ice.
No sooner had they stopped than the sun made a brief but scorching appearance, making the garden and landscape an 'other wordly' steaming rainforest. But within minutes great black clouds rolled in, with growling thunder following in their wake and the torrential downpour resumed.
And so it continued ; rain / sun / rain. The scent in the air was reminiscent of my dad's greenhouse when it is bursting with ripening tomatoes. That loamy, pungent vegetation smell. Judging by the rate of growth in the garden (and I'm not talking flowers here!), the plants like this weather. Although I suspect that even they were a little taken aback by the hailstones. But the changing light was a joy to see. The fields were a moving kaleidoscope of every shade of green, as sunlight chased shadow in a mad race to the heavy indigo horizon.
Apparently there is no such thing as the wrong weather, just the wrong clothes. I beg to differ. In trying to cover every eventuality while going outside for an hour,the layers of clothes needed resulted in an unbecoming Michelin Man appearance. But at least I was well padded in case I slipped on the icy carpet of hailstones.It was a tad irritating to overheat when the sun appeared, get into something of a lather removing some layers, only to be drenched in the deluge and freeze in the lazy wind. Not to worry though, I warmed up rapidly as I struggled to replace the layers, just as the the sun came out again and I began to overheat...
By evening it had blown itself away down the Solway to England and a tentative tranquility settled in. Down on the beach the sun's best efforts were caught in the receding tide.