2016 - WINTER MORNING: STORM GERTRUDE
From the gutter, the water spills; torn by the wind to splay back and forth, as though someone were waving a hose in the garden on a summer afternoon. Except this is winter and it is freezing cold. The dip outside the back door is flooded, with footballs skittering around in the puddle, being blown erratically here and there. Leaves create a dark slippery smear all over the path. At the door James asks you if you want to come under his umbrella which makes you smile. As we turn onto the drive, it blows inside out. He hasn’t learnt yet about wind and cloth, to turn around for it to be blown back the right way.
The road is covered in moss and twigs and, in the forest, the trees have bright white splashes on their trunks where the branches have been blown away. All the car doors unlock but yours so you get that wee bit wetter, waiting for me to open it. Somehow, we get lost trying to find David’s house but then there it is, with a garden almost as messy as ours.
And then I am home, slightly damp, listening to my music, feeling slightly confused that men don’t go on play dates, slightly confused that I do not understand all these rules of gender and what is and is not appropriate, but at the same time pleased because I can sit on the couch, listening to the wind, knowing you will all be back home soon; soaked, noisy; being life-filled.
Photos - Weather 2021 Argyll
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