Not torrential rain
But lovely sunshine! We went out for a walk in the damp, muggy, sticky heat. So good to be walking on our familiar tracks, but very sticky. Hardly any lingon berries this year, not a lot of blueberries either, and our usual wild raspberry spot had hardly a berry in sight.
I came home from the hot sweaty walk and did som ironing with the steam iron. Even more sweaty! It was important ironing though (I iron almost nothing) as it was the two linen frocks from the Red Cross haul. They both look very good, but the yellow one. is too tight, There may be something I can change in it, or perhaps I can change something in myself. It will be passed on if not!
The forest pantry is not all that full this year, but the garden is producing food, peas and broad beans and spinach leaves were on the tea table this evening, as well as basil and mint from the garden. It's a lovely time of year. I have a pan of strawberry jam to boil up this evening, frozen berries and pectin-laced sugar. Easy peasy, jam in 10 minutes. Good thing some things are speedy, my drawing took over 2 hours this morning. Or you can see it another way, I had two hours of relaxed attention, almost meditation. What a lucky person I am, so many people I know are starting work this week!
The stormy weather seems to be just about missing us, which is good for the natural world in my garden. It seems to have survived pretty well, I tipped a lot of surplace water out of the planters this morning, poor geraniums were swimming in the stuff. I slept like a rocked and cradled baby, the bed of nails is so good. I wonder how I'd managed to forget that? It took me a while to track it down, which shows the level of my neglect. It's so relaxing to lie on the spikes and read - or try to stay awake so you can read.
The latest news on the state of the climate is definitely not good at all, grim predictions of irreversible damage - even if we get on top of things right away, which we are far from doing. I'm sure the earth will survive, but it looks like human life might well not do. I was listening to a Swedish woman who has made her home in Greece on the burning island of Evia, speaking on the radio. She describes flames and smoke coming so fast there wasn't even time to grab the bag she had prepared "in case". Her home wasn't destroyed, her animals were all safe when she was able to return. But her poor village has lost most of the harvest, the trees, the pipes for irrigation, the animals - she will stay where she is as it's her home. But it sounded like a devastated place.
It seems the latest run of shorter, warmer winters will continue here. As will the more frequent storms and extreme weather events. Human beings are so adaptable, and so clever at fixing things - but these are huge and uncontrollable forces at play. I agree with greta Thunberg, we need to be panicking! The pandemic has shown us a lot of the strengths in our societies, and some of the weaknesses. Perhaps it will also sharpen the focus on the really big crisis?
As I sit at my kitchen table writing, the evening sun is filtering across the village, slanting beams on the roof tops. The forest is being picked out in golden light, glowing - and it is very hard to comprehend that all is not well. Especially when everything feels so right.
Alternative title for this blip: The March of the Marshmallows!