A soft day

A soft day, thank God!
A wind from the south
With a honeyed mouth;
A scent of drenching leaves,
Briar and beech and lime,
White elder-flower and thyme
And the soaking grass smells sweet,
Crushed by my two bare feet,
While the rain drips,
Drips, drips, drips from the eaves.

A soft day, thank God!
The hills wear a shroud
Of silver cloud;
The web the spider weaves
Is a glittering net;
The woodland path is wet,
And the soaking earth smells sweet
Under my two bare feet,
And the rain drips,
Drips, drips, drips from the leaves.

-- Winifred M. Letts

We all know visitors flock to Ireland for its colours and weather - here are both in their full and rather typical glory! An entry for Blip cultural thingy challenge. What a day. A tropical monsoon seem to have been forecast yesterday to hit us at around 4am. That didn't happen but we've had a  serious damp, mizzly, foggy, damp soft day. The weather tends to be lovely or grand unless it's actually raining whereupon its soft, thank God, beyond that and it becomes lashing  and no good to man or beast. During this soft bit I ventured around the circuit, looked at the calm high tide and thought .... swim! Something rather gorgeous about swimming in the mist and moistiness.

Fuchsias always remind me of Lady Fuchsia Groan in Gormenghast. A good name and an extraordinary book. I read it as a student and was most taken with the whole trilogy. I wonder how I would feel about it now.

And a a new blog entry - soft weather and things get done.

A backblip too

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