Today was misty and overcast with a chill wind blowing and the clouds, who had all got up late this morning, rushed along in a mad hurry to try to get there on time. The Dandelions – and the few Celandines that are still flowering – were all shut up tight. They must have opened the shutters this morning, peeped out, then quickly gone back to bed.
You know what they say about Mad Dogs And Englishmen? I wonder if Noel Coward would have considered the same stiff upper lip necessary to go Out in the Morning Drizzle.
I stood there in the middle of the grey day, watching the grey clouds scudding overhead and staring at the grey misty hills, thinking to myself that the windmills must be making grey electricity this morning. Quite suddenly, by some quirk of cloud shape and size, a row of sunbeams broke through and, almost seeming to rotate in sympathy with the windmills, raced across the hillside behind them – the rays of sunlight fluorescing in the misty air and their spotlight like footprints chased, one after the other, over the fields and hedges.
And then they were gone.
I did manage to take a picture of one of them with the camera – but the photo certainly doesn’t do justice to the magic of the moment