Such a hyacinth blue sky
and brightness
and shining warmth
on Wednesday.
The Indian summer continues
roses still blooming
and the silver birch trees glowing gold.
My view from the bedroom window this morning. A white out sky,
the European ash nearly naked now...
and sheep graze in the confetti whisked down from the plane tree by a strong wind.
By this evening the wind is gusting gale force with stinging rain in your face. My neighbour's umbrella blows inside out in the short walk from her house to mine. She comes for tea and chocolate biscuits and we share widow talk.
Later I walk her to the front gate by torchlight and watch her being swallowed up into the darkness. I'm worried she'll get blown over in the wind and wait till I can see the pale smudge of her puffa jacket in her own driveway.
Indian summer over.
And now I have laid out T-shirts and books and a sarong and plug adaptors on the spare bed next to my open suitcase. It's hard to imagine sun on my back and sea spray in my face with the sound of the wild wet night outside swishing round the house. I feel so lucky to have this option ....to swop the darkness of an English winter for the light and warmth of a Portuguese coastline.
Last blog for a while. Back in December.
And I leave you with this quote from Rabrindranath Tagore which I love and gives me great comfort whenever I read it.
Faith is the bird that sings when the dawn is still dark.
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