Observations

Most of the droplets glisten when they capture the meagre early morning sunlight, others appear opaque. The window pane is littered with static rain beads giving the appearance of pockmarked glass. Then when the fast moving grey clouds curtain the sun, the droplets become almost invisible allowing my eye through the distraction. I now watch the trees in the garden are dancing in the brisk breeze, it fluctuates from a gentle flip of the lighter branches to whole tree contortions. 

We have a stained glass plaque in the window and at the moment, brief flashes of sun sing through the colours scattering speckles of colour on the glass.

Himself left for work while it was still the last drifts of darkness leaving the cat and me in bed, his parting shot - I'd stay there if I were you. So we have. Although I suspect I will be up long before the cat.

The hyacinths in the lounge have both decorated the room and the air with their delicious scent and blue flowers however they are beginning to fade and I am sorry to see them go. It will be another ten months before we have them up on the mantel and in the window again.  Primula have been brought in to fill that hole.

The cat is rhythmically snoring beneath Himself's aged lumberjack shirt - one reserved specifically for gardening and tucking around a cold sleeping cat.

I can see, but not hear, the wind chime in the garden twirling around in the wind. It is an elegant spiral of tubes which normally share a gentle chime as they tink against each other. Today I suspect it is more of an angry clash than a melodic background sound. The blackbirds do not seem to care. They are busily foraging around the plants and bird feeder breaking off only to chase each other around and across the garage roof.

I plan to paint once I have posted this. I  can feel the compulsion to sketch and run a watercolour filled brush across paper. It sometimes feels like a rising tide which I used to suppress - somehow 'adulting' seemed more important - but now I heed that urge.

Life is for living.

A definite lack of rainbows

Being driven home in the dark whilst the car radio on allows my mind to wander. Himself is occupied by the drive and by nature is not a chatty person so I entertain myself with staring out the window.

The windscreen is stained by dried rain splatters and flicked up road dirt. This time of year it seems pointless trying to keep the car clean as every time I drive to and from work, my little white car has filthy streaks trailing down his sides. Yes, my car is male and he has a name - Bob.

In the distance small lights flicker as trees pass between us on the freeway and the farms sprinkled out on the hills. Sunday was a rather long day, we'd spent it with Youngest who'd put our a plea for help laying tiles on his kitchen floor and it turned out to be one of those 'takes longer than you think' jobs.

Storm Herminia was building up as Youngest's lovely girl and I were outside measuring the garden and discussing possible plans and layouts. It just got too wild and windy to linger so we retreated to the house and with mugs of tea and the internet we searched for ideas and inspiration whilst we watched the weather thrash about outside.

Monday was still reeling from the storm and although not as intense as the previous one, the walled garden suffered more damage. So after a meeting I started rescuing obelisks and wooden fence panels and dragging them into the glasshouse where they can dry off, get repaired then return to the garden. Some days at work - regardless at what life throws at me - I step up to the mark and come home satisfied. Then there are some days at work - I just want to shut the gate behind me and throw away the key.

Now, today, I am watching the finest of guti (that dreadful 'Scotch Mist / mizzle / drizzle / mist) that seeps through not just clothing but manages to dampen down through bones and flesh too. 

I know it is the dying days of January but surely we are due some nicer weather? I'd like to think so!

The pictures were snapped on Sunday evening on our drive home

A thorny issue

The garden was quiet again this morning once the storm had passed. There was a certain stillness - almost a sigh of relief - a moment's breath. The birds were flitting back and forth, making up for lost time I suspect. Today we'd planned to do the Big Garden Bird Watch ,  something we've tried to do annually for quite a while now. However, instead of sitting down in the summerhouse, notebook and mug of tea to hand, we were having to wrestle a 20 year old climbing rose who'd succumbed to Éowyn's howling winds and was now lying prone across the back of the garden in a very sorry state.

Himself and I armed with not mugs of tea or binoculars but with loppers, secateurs and the shredder got to work soon after breakfast. Metres and metres of heavily thorned and tangled rose branches were first lopped then shredded into piles of chippings. As we worked, the woodshed began to reappear from behind the unforgiving tangle.

To be brutally honest, I was not sorry the rose had to be reduced to a pile of wood chip. It had grown so big that the flowers - as beautiful and as scented as they were - were beyond our reach. We estimated it had grown over 12 metres (40 foot in old money) and was truly a monster. Now, hopefully it will recover and flower again in a year or two but at head height.

Did we still manage to see a bird or two? Well, surprisingly so - yes, many. They were so busy being birds that our shenanigans with the rose did not seem to bother them. 

Storm Éowyn

At some point during the night and through sleep deadened eyes and ears, I could hear the occasional gust of wind or rain splattering the window. Not enough to fully awaken me, but enough for me to notice.

This morning although blustery at home, it did not feel that threatening and it was surprisingly mild as we hopped into the cars and set off ..... until we hit the freeway. My car bounced and bucked and behaved as if he'd had too many oats and his feet were fizzy. By the time I'd reached work I was quite on edge as I trickled carefully along the lane into the park. It was strewn with twigs and sticks but very little else. No trees seemed to be down or branches dropped.

Then as the skies lightened from inky blue to leaden grey the wind built to a roar, ripping through trees and screaming around buildings.  The bright yellow weeding buckets we hang up on the raised beds were flung in to the air as they bounded through the garden before colliding with the wall and gate. Café chairs stopped huddling around their tables pirouetting swiftly before disgracefully nose diving with a resounding metallic thud. 

We watched from in the building for a moment or two before I ventured out down to the glasshouse. Although double strength safety glass, it is always with an amount of trepidation when I enter while the weather is as wild as today. The wind droned and groaned as the trees creaked and wailed however, in the glasshouse, radio and plant heater on, it felt warm and almost cocoon like.

However by lunch, when the wall was being stripped of pieces of brick by the wind, it was time to retreat. I sent volunteers home - it was not worth their safety (or mine) to linger longer than necessary.  With the winds behind me on the freeway my car raced home faster that I wanted however, now, sitting with the cat asleep on my shoulder, my second mug of tea nearly finished it seems that the winds may have tired themselves out - although still blustery and the trees still rocking and rolling, I think the storm may have blown itself thin.

My heart goes out to those further north and in Northern Ireland who have really felt the wrath of the storm xx

During last night's  'Winter Watch'  - the mindful moment,

 the cat decided to sit in front of the television

 to try and locate where the bird song was emanating from -

 when she had her 'Lion King' moment.