With June has come summer. With June has come rain. It rained relentlessly yesterday. Thus, I was surprised to experience a delightful happiness and contentment driving along the drizzly road in the morning, gazing at the subdued greenery and grey skies. I thought of the beauty of the countryside even on this dark, damp and drab day. I thought of cosiness and warmth and how fortunate I am to have a dry home to return to. And how fortunate I am to be traveling through this verdant and ever-changing landscape. Today hushed and muted; tomorrow perhaps, scintillating and radiant. Continue reading “The View from Here: thoughts in the June rain”
The View from Here: thoughts in the June rain
And perhaps today – when it is indeed much improved outside, though maybe not quite scintillating – perhaps all of that was still in my head …
“Yes, the estate remains open until dusk. But I’m afraid the bluebells are almost over.” The National Trust staff member looked genuinely crestfallen that we had perhaps made a futile journey. I wondered too. Had we left it too late? Not in the time of day – I had deliberately chosen late afternoon just as the main house and gardens were closing – but in waiting so late into the spring? The bluebells have been magnificent this year; we still had plenty at home. But had I left it too late to see them in their true glory – massed amidst spring woodlands?
For a week or so, I have been considering drafting a Mother’s Day post. It would have been one of my rambles, perhaps on my role as a mother and as a daughter. But today (I am writing on Thursday March 8th) leaves me wanting to pare down my usual florid style and take a different tack. In the end, I don’t know that I’ve done a lot of paring. But what I want to say matters to me. It stands as it is.