Monotony has a way of reducing dreams to ashes. We need a change from the monotone. an arrhythmic interval such as is provided by the warm rain falling on my bare feet, which protrude from beneath the awning, as I take my morning coffee. Summer dusted olive greens and ochres have been enhanced by this water coloured palette. The musky scent of rain soaked earth has replaced the narcotic perfume of herbs in heat. This transformed garden scape is somehow welcome, providing a moment for reflection on the blazing heat of yesterday and the near certainty of more to come. A Miss Haversham moment without time for putrefaction and cobwebs: the bridegroom is definitely coming back.
Nature seems to be having a well earned rest from the arduous business of summer. That previous heated silence, which was only interrupted by the buzzing of bees, is now replaced by a calmer silence that can be heard beyond the birdsong. Today’s silence is not the taut drumskin of oppressive heat, but the soft down pillow of waking moments when one dreams of sleeping on.
I set out to write about what I was going to cook, from the wonderful ingredients that I bought yesterday, but I got transported.