Today the air is oozing — it is absolutely still — not a single raindrop, nor a whisper of wind, but everything is wet,reflecting the mist.
Every blade of grass carries a pearl of moisture that swells and drops into the soggy ground.
Water condenses onto every surface — all day dew… Dew (the Welsh for God) that seeps through the sloping fields, that runs down ruts and overflows the puddles into ditches and culverts where it gurgles and giggles to the jingling stream.
The land sings with water — not falling rain, not today, but water that’s a sacrament, a mystery and a power.
Beautiful prose and photographs! Thanks for sharing, 🙂
Thank you again!
To my one and only cousin – thank you – that is such a reminder – can almost feel it – love to you and yours.
A while ago when you were lost (to me) in the out-back or Papua New Guinea, I gazed at your last known address on Google Earth and wrote a little poem that no one understood — Watch this space!