After the recent storm there was no need to ask which way the wind had been blowing.
It was perfectly evident from the coloration of this sinuous oak trunk by the house.
As dusk falls, snow has coated one side of the giant oak trunk. It could be an illustration out of a children’s book.
It’s been snowing on and off for hours, mostly in near-horizontal billowing gusts.
It started settling on the windward windowsills some time ago, but is only just now settling on the ground.
There’s a waterfall-freshness about the air and a hallowed quiet disturbed only by the wind.
I’m giving myself away, now. I absolutely love snow.
Yesterday, taking advantage of an overcast sky rather than blazing sun to pick gooseberries and white currants, I became aware that a storm was coming.
First there was a riffle of wind and a distant grumble of thunder.
A few minutes later a flash of lightning and a loud rip of thunder.
At this point I still thought it might be a dry storm, but on the heels of another gust of wind came the first heavy drops of rain.
The rain didn’t amount to much all told, but at least I was excused watering for one evening!
This is my response to the challenge issued by Cecilia in her blog ‘thekitchensgarden’.
I took the photos today in not very photogenic weather. Here our al fresco dining area is shining wet from the latest shower and Mount Subasio, beloved of St Francis, is blotted out by mist.
The plant bulging over the tiled surface on the left is thyme, and behind it, in front of the yellow roses, is one of many clumps of love-in-a-mist.
Just to the right of the door, a very different scene with the rain now drying up.
Galileo is climbing on what we call our ‘cold frame’ – spare double-glazed windows propped on crates so as to provide shelter for seedlings. You can see he’s wearing a bell round his neck – the sort hunting dogs wear. It has a lovely Alpine tinkle which we hope will enable us to find out where he goes when he runs off frightened and doesn’t come back for hours. The other two dogs are keeping him company.
Behind the cold frame is what we call the ‘shelter’ – pallets held upright by stakes driven into the ground – designed to stop light seed trays etc from blowing away in the wind. It’s got pretty cluttered over time.
To the left of the cold frame is the barbecue which we never finished building but which we’ve used like it is, with the blocks laid dry. At the moment it’s full of rosemary prunings so that our next fire will smell nice.
Beyond the stub lamp is a glimpse of the nearest house in that direction. It’s the only one which could, conceivably, overlook us!
The weather has wings, in other words it’s windy, and the flowers are swaying and fluttering.
The butterflies are hiding somewhere, afraid to take to the air.
There are normally several swallowtail butterflies around, alighting on the rosemary or doing a mating ‘pas à deux’ over the pond.
But today the only butterflies to be found are the ones I’m wearing round my neck and in my hair.
It sounds quite nice; you can have oak leaf wine after all. But it’s not so nice to swim in.
The mammoth oak by the house sheds its catkins, and the wind plonks them straight in the pool.
Yesterday it was like bathing in noodle soup and in no time at all I had a mass of the things in my fishing net.
Today the wind had veered and took a lot of them into the skimmer basket.
I’m glad we have the pool closed when the oak sheds its leaves!
There’s something rain-like about wisteria.
It must be to do with the tinge of grey in the mauve, and the way the tresses flow in the wind.
This has been the wettest spring for 30 years, I’m told, plus it started raining all over again today, so it’s fitting that the wisteria blooms should be super-long.
This one even continues beyond the bottom of the photo.