Four degrees at 8:30am. We descended amid a storm - howling winds, driving rain, water up to our ankles in places (places that the children joyfully and unerringly found).
But now I am watching the rain dribbling off the nearest piode rooftop and the trees bowing to the wind from the warmth of my kitchen. I have my back to a gently radiant Mathilda, and Allegri's 'Miserere' (the song of angels) pours from the speakers as I quietly consider the oeuvre on the screen before me.
Bliss.
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Monday 30 November 2009
The eye of the storm
Four degrees at 8:30am. We descended amid a storm - howling winds, driving rain, water up to our ankles in places (places that the children joyfully and unerringly found).
But now I am watching the rain dribbling off the nearest piode rooftop and the trees bowing to the wind from the warmth of my kitchen. I have my back to a gently radiant Mathilda, and Allegri's 'Miserere' (the song of angels) pours from the speakers as I quietly consider the oeuvre on the screen before me.
Bliss.
But now I am watching the rain dribbling off the nearest piode rooftop and the trees bowing to the wind from the warmth of my kitchen. I have my back to a gently radiant Mathilda, and Allegri's 'Miserere' (the song of angels) pours from the speakers as I quietly consider the oeuvre on the screen before me.
Bliss.
2 comments:
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Christine Gram said...
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Sounds like a rainy day Monday.
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Monday, 30 November, 2009
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Will S said...
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You sound content.
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Wednesday, 02 December, 2009
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2 comments:
Sounds like a rainy day Monday.
You sound content.
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