I plan to do something different with my daily posting today, it shall be in two parts. A morning of bright emulsion followed by a dark after-storm encore.
I am writing this at 09.08hrs on Sunday morning. I'm still in bed with the windows wide open, but have spent an hour listening to the softest of rain falling. I've also been trying, largely unsuccessfully, to take images of raindrops on cobwebs from the bedroom window. A futile gesture considering I needed to use the telephoto lens in poor light. But, that being said, it is a fabulously soft day here on the Somerset coast, dark clouds weep a soft drizzle onto a silent still world; Micro raindrops lightly kiss and gather on an apexoidal leaf tip to magnify the scene, a microcosm of verdant serenity. I absolutely love these soft damp days in summer, they excite me, throw me back to childhood walks brushing my legs against rain sodden foliage, that triumphal note of release as a booted foot breaks free during a muddy stride. Heightened senses to make the mind flow into its farthest reaches of composition fervour and release a line or two in celebration of this green and pleasant land. All is serene, all is calm.
And yet, for all the calm serenity without as I type, the remnants of Hurricane Bertha (which caressed the Carribean on Monday ) is scheduled to hit this area by mid afternoon. If as predicted winds of 40-50mph and driving rain by teatime arrive, the scene from the bedroom window will have changed out of all recognition. Can a day have such contrast, almost a metaphor for life, in that its birth as a mild soft-rained summer morn will end in the explosive fire of a cyclonic event. Certainly in the 15 minutes it has taken to write this the wind has noticeably increased, from an admittedly stationary mode, lightly billowing formerly motionless curtains. Fascinating to feel the subtle changes minute by minute.
I wonder what will happen; I shall return at 10pm and report if the contrast was as to be expected, dramatic after all.
As I write this it is not far off my 10pm deadline, 9.30pm to be precise and the remnants of Hurricane Bertha are battering the back of the house as the final vestiges of light disappear over the Welsh Mountains. The above photograph was taken at about 1pm and until then it had been calm and sunny. We wandered up a Forestry Commission plantation for a walk only for the front to come in. Soaked and with upturned umbrella's we headed back to the car and that was the end of the rain. The wind continued to pick up and still is, but it was sunny.
High Tide down at the coast was 7.30pm, so we made good our wish to see how windy it was down there. Sandblasting was a new game for us as the wind whipped the dunes into a barrage of stings. The oft gentle rolling motion of the Atlantic hitting the buffers at Sand Bay, was, today, slightly more robust of energy with the tide coming right up to the sand dunes and sea wall. Certainly the skittish flocks of dunlin and ringed plover enjoyed the wind. We also attempted to drink a cup of tea from a flask. I'd not recommend that if the wind is over 30mph, choppy tea in a plastic mug is entertaining if attempted once only.
And so, I began this post in calm, mild and damp conditions awaiting the onslaught, as predicted it came and as I sign off nearly 10 hours later with the sound of Thor beating a wind-hammer on the window pane, it's a sound I find most exciting. The weather forecasters got it spot on too, today really was a day of contrast, weather wise at least.
(After writing this I've just checked the BBC Weather website, current sustained wind speed here is 28mph, gusting 48 - marvellous)
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