People are on holiday. It is Sunday, but the Grove looks foresaken. Even the play ground is quiet. It is a pleasing quietness, only slightly on the malancholy side.
In damp and chilly July, the sunflowers which I had planted in May had a hard time. They grew, but they were weak and thin. They are normally sturdy plants with thick stems. But I had to prop some up with stakes to stop them collapsing. Today, with the warm weather, they look altogether happier. And one, has flowered. It is the reddish brown variety, with golden pollen on its black face, amid a halo of yellow-streaked petals.
A proper old fashioned shower. Outside the Compasses, one moment the sun is shining, the next big drops are falling on the table ...
"... and Noah said to his wife, as they sat down to dine/ Never mind where the water goes if it doesn't get into the wine"...
Big drops fall. We walk home not hurrying, not minding the rain, which isn't going to last for long.
2 comments:
Has anybody ever told you you are the antithesis of Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells?
There's plenty of things going on, between and around the good things observed, to be disgusted about. And not just in Tunbridge Wells.
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