For what feels like the last week, maybe more, it has rained every.single.day. As in, all day long. Every day, all day, for the last 7 or so days. The sea is very grey and very tumultuous and surges close to the grass line along the nearby beaches. The rock pools have been overwhelmed by the big seas, covered, non-existant for the time being. Foolhardy surfers insist on throwing themselves at the mercy of the sea, albeit briefly. The water is cold, unrelenting and unforgiving. Mist hangs low over the escarpment. At times the top of the escarpment is utterly obscured by the drifting puffs and trails of low cloud and mist. The local creeks are full, rushing, milk chocolate brown, churning.
Now. Ordinarily, as Anne would describe it, I'd be in the Depths of Despair over the longevity and intensity of this cold, grey, so very grey, rainy rainy weather. But much to my surprise, I am enjoying it. It feels good to be all cosy and warm, either indoors with the gas heating pumping out warm deliciousness or outdoors, with a warm scarf wrapped around my neck and snug boots on my feet. Comfort food tastes good and soothing, wine is warming and the lounge, with it's inviting blanket and books amid the soft glow of candlelight, beckons. It all feels lazy, cosy, unhurried. The soft sound of the rain pattering and pittering outside lulls me into a state of acceptance. It is time for retreat, reflection.
It's a beautiful time of year.
