Mud On the Road

we're about to go shopping in Salisbury...

Green Day

Posted by Deborah Courtnell

A School Reunion, Windy Weather & the Friday Fidgets

     Tomorrow I am going to a reunion at my old school. It's the first reunion I've been to and I'll be seeing people I haven't seen for 30 years.

     I don't know if it will signal the start of new things  or a line drawn under the passing of old. If I'm brave I'll write about it next week and tell you.

    For now I'm in a Friday mood, fidgety ahead of the weekend.

     The weather suits my mood. It's windy out there and the wind blows the chickens about the garden which makes us smile but patently does not amuse them.

     The wind  infects the boxer dogs, all three of them. They’re seized with a kind of capricious excitement. It’s as if someone’s sprinkled them with hot black pepper and spicy cayenne.
     They’re skittish, even bouncier than usual and liable at any moment to race round and around the garden at full tilt and in ever decreasing circles, the bantams flapping and rushing to get out of their way.

     I work at the top of the house, a few roof tiles and a short slope down from the Jackdaws who perch on the chimney tops, chattering, gossiping and grumbling from dawn to dusk.

     It's been wild up here for the last 24 hours; there are whistling and shrieking and banging sounds and the sight of things untethered occasionally flying past.

     This wind has come hard on the tails of the Great Greening which arrived, finally, with the first sunny day only one week ago. The blossom barely had time to flower - on many trees it has not appeared at all - so great was the rush and hurry of leaves.

     And now my rooftop view, due West, across the roof of the Church, past the golden cockerel,  above the chimneys and peaks of the High Street  and across to the iron age site that is Danebury Ring, my view is completely green, a glorious lush saturation of colour and with it the promise of Summer.


Green view
Blue Sky, Green Day

Surrey Hills
But, I Am Not A Mote
Eggs, by Floyd
The Good Workman 
Poppies, Cowdrove Hill
Time Please! 
The Test in February
Going Fishing 

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