The world through the curtains is a grey cloud world. But I’m awake, so I will climb into my Wellington boots and take Dog to the fields, because I love Dog, under any sky.
I am watching her leap the five bar gate, watching the spray as she skids through dew heavy grass, I am thinking, let’s take the lower path this morning and check the Longwools aren’t caught in any bramble thickets. I watch my footing on the slippy wide bladed grass, down to the sloppy mud under the holly tree. Only then do I look up. Vast clouds fill the right hand side of the firmament; what is left, is clearly uncluttered blue. Last night’s fire in the grate means that there is today hot water waiting in the tank, my chatty little brain tells me, so it is entirely possible to indulge in a bath and then sit outside to dry my hair in sunshine.
And if the cloud presses in, it was still a beautiful thought.