So this mornings meanderings started quite early - I was comatose early last night, but was awake at 2am and sleep absolutely eluded me. I read for a while, listened to nothingness, ran out of ironing, read some more, and then gave up and gave in to what I needed. So I donned my wet weather gear, (the dog gave me a peep, clearly judged me for the ungodly hour, promptly tucked his nose back under his blanket and went back to sleep), threw on hiking boots instead of trainers to keep the rain out, and headed for road alone.
Daylight was only around the corner, the dawn chorus told me that, but there’s something unnervingly calm about being out ahead of it. We had another storm this weekend, and the smell of wet soil is everywhere; that fresh optimistic smell of growth in spring is just intoxicating when you have things to grow... The wind has lingered longer than usual, gusts blasting you in the face when you least expect it taking your breath away in a nanosecond. Then just as quickly as it hit, it disappears, calmness again.
I can see the light over the horizon, just a little flash peeking up to see if anyone is watching, the sky still quite dark but a glimmer of hope for a sunnier day. The rhythm of my footsteps in time to my heart beating, I decide to lengthen my strides a little, stretch myself, chase the sun in its game of hide and seek.
I stop at a field, peer over the gate at a sheep with twin lambs. They’re nestled in against her, curled up alongside her but she has them tucked under her fleece a little. She’s alert, giving me the onceover, a head to toe examination of my potential “threat”. I clearly pose none as she continues to graze and check on her babies still sleeping soundly. Yes, you read that correctly, she’s lying down with her babies tucked in but grazing while they sleep - us mums are good at that lol.
Onwards I travel, the birds getting louder, a few domestics midair, or are they courtships? Hardly this late in the year - definitely an argument over whose turn it is to do the dishes! The road takes me around the cliffs, (the sea, my happy place) and I finally stop to take it in, breathe in lungfulls of therapy. The sea is such a fascinating thing to observe, her many moods reflective in our own - calm stillness but a darkness before a storm erupts, choppy waves in times of strife, deep conflicting currents when weather patterns mash and churn the cauldron that is her core. She brings happiness in her happiest times, and destruction is oft left in her wake when she’s not - throwing back to us what we’ve left in her...
Away from the cliffs I go, leaving her behind for now (she wasn’t particularly happy to see me anyway...) and turn towards home. The sky has changed colour, to my left the beautiful colours of dawn in layers above me, dancing and playing with the eye; to my right, a darkness difficult to explain, deep greys and a hollow blackness that is actually so full it’s bursting... the rain is coming. In between, in front of me, guiding me home, a soft rainbow.
I slow my pace, I need both this morning, the sunshine and the rain. The first heavy drops hit hard, almost in surprise of hitting anything at all. Their burden is heavy, a message behind them, checking back with the cloud to see if the time is right. The wind is picking up. Now I just stop. The next round is actually softer as the droplets are smaller, a “shower”. And then it comes in all its glory. Heavy, fiery, cold rain, the wind driving it into my face leaving a sharp sting from the softness of water. There’s anger in those clouds, in the rains drops, in the wind as it swirls around me. I’m welcoming it, the honesty it represents, the truth pounding against me.
And just as suddenly as it arrived, it’s gone again. An apology of another shower softly falls, followed in turn by the large slow droplets once again checking in with the clouds to see if it’s really finished.
Off I go, heading for home in search of my warm hug of coffee. I’m sure the dog will be happy to see me on my return if it’s cuddle time. The airborne domestics overhead are starting again now the rain has gone, I think it’s over whose turn it is to cook breakfast this time.
