Air is mild in temperature and temperament, high in humidity. Wind adds a frisky chill factor, sun streams add heat, dark clouds deliberate. This is my favourite kind of sunshine, a burst of brightness before rain. I was wandering up the rough lane, slowly drinking strong black coffee, watching the mist that hides the moor peaks. Dog, bored of convalescence, jumped the fence into the field. Trusting her instinct, me and my coffee followed. We wander from the top path down past the exposed rock face, where the stone crumbles and crinkles, it looks wrinkled like an old elephant’s arse. The tumble of cold breeze and damp sunny air remind me of peeling off a wetsuit in a sandy car park, and the tussle to get dry clothes on salt saturated skin. There is always a thermos of strong black coffee in the back of the car, waiting. The last leap year day of February starts.
I watch for the rain but the air has absorbed it. The sun makes us loll like lizards, a flake of moon rests in the day sky above, a glider flies over, white as wedding cake. Dreamy euphoria follows me from hazy day to mist scattered night.
Every day in February, I have looked for a particular moment, something specific to that day, the character and the flow of it. And everyday, it has been there, just waiting for me to look at it correctly.
I think, I love this way of seeing, I think, I love to share this. This is my philanthropy.
I watch for the rain but the air has absorbed it. The sun makes us loll like lizards, a flake of moon rests in the day sky above, a glider flies over, white as wedding cake. Dreamy euphoria follows me from hazy day to mist scattered night.
Every day in February, I have looked for a particular moment, something specific to that day, the character and the flow of it. And everyday, it has been there, just waiting for me to look at it correctly.
I think, I love this way of seeing, I think, I love to share this. This is my philanthropy.
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