I offer you a rough and ready poem:
What ails the wind
What ails the wind thrums my soul, my ears buffeted red and raw
I regret not checking the roof when the sky was calm and dare not venture out now
Lest a tile or tree come crashing down to test my mortality
The howl and hum and whoosh and groan are artefacts of house and wall and wire and ground
The racing heart, the running step, the watering eyes and dribbling nose testify to the gale’s power
Now the breeze rises and falls while painting the house with rain and jabbing every crack in the walls with a gust that mocks the mortar
And all this sitting in the warm, glad to be indoors, contemplating a cup of tea
Imagining, not experiencing; remembering more than knowing.
I am not at sea bouncing on waves indifferent to my fate;
I do not trudge across civilised plains hoping for a welcome or at least a crumb of comfort
It is not my job to sweep up the leaves even to keep the trains running on time.
Is it enough just to spare a thought for those caught out in the wind and rain
or should we do something for them as well?
melting Autumn sun
soft against the silver sky
nips at Summer’s heels
a ragged grey sky
clouds scrunched like an unmade bed
soaked are field and coat
There are probably more accurate scientific terms for what we saw late September in Northamptonshire. Certainly you do not see these very often. You’ll have to forgive my fist in one of the pictures. It is there to block out the sun and protect the camera (and my eyes for that matter) so that we could have a photograph that showed both sun dogs in relation to the sun.
The cloudbow (if that is the correct name) was directly overhead and I’m afraid the picture doesn’t do it justice. It was like having a rainbow but no rain. For the record there were no nimbus clouds in the sky – pretty much all medium-height alto-stratus – or possibly high cirro-stratus but I’m not much cop at estimating heights and distances.
You had to be there.
Hope you like these.
That’s of the weather variety. At first glance, when we’ve been complaining about a bitter cold wind, it might seem like a strange choice.
I could wax lyrical about windmills, wind turbines (controversial though they are), sailing and the colour spinners that brighten up gardens and sandcastles. But that is not the point I am making. Nor is it how the wind helps pollinate trees and other plants and thereby is an essential part of ecology – not to mention producing some of our food.
I am thinking of something more basic. Wind is moving air: from high pressure to low pressure. It is in large part due to the difference in temperature between the equator and the poles. Wind helps to share the heat (and energy) round the world. Wind brings some of the warmth of the South to the North (I live in the Northern hemisphere). I thank God for wind because it is a natural mechanism that shares the blessing of the sun’s warmth around the world. To be sure it is not a simple mechanism and too much wind can be damaging. But I thank God for the wind because it helps even things out round the planet we live on.
But it took us three or four goes to get it nearly right. We don’t often have a fire – mostly use it to burn receipts and stuff we do not want to put in the paper recycling lest it get into nefarious hands – but with the snow and cold it was a nice change. For us it is also enough of a novelty to be a treat. The art is getting the marshmallow near enough the fire to melt it without burning it and removing it from the heat without it melting completely and dripping on the floor. A light brown caramelisation is acceptable.
The weather had been oppressively dull for days: cloud, rain and fog vying for dominance and relentlessly gloomy whichever way you looked at it. In the middle of this, for a brief few minutes, the sun tried to break through but did not quite succeed. At least we were treated, albeit briefly, to this spectacle. I’m not sure if it is classified as a halo or a corona. Either way it looked striking and the photo doesn’t really do justice to it.
corona or halo
or may be before one. The clouds were quite impressive (these photos don’t really do them justice). I’ve included a couple with TV aerials and roofs in – not because they look pretty but because they were part of the scene.
cumulo nimbus (2)
Cumulo nimbus (3) with beginning of an anvil
or, perhaps more accurately, “Between the showers”. These photos can’t quite capture the atmosphere but after several days of relentless showers and rain, this was a welcome break one evening several days ago. The ground was soggy, but where the sunlight broke through the rain drops sparkled and the blossom got its chance to shine. When they were not raining on us, the sun-lit clouds caught our attention too.