I got my grass cut yesterday morning, and stood for a while breathing the soft green aroma of fresh cuttings, well before the threatened turn to showers that had been forecast for lunchtime and the afternoon. In the event, it did not rain, and the sun stayed with us until dark, much to our back-step sitting delight.
Overnight, though the rain came through and I woke this morning to a wet Welsh world, where all colour was washed away, leaving only green and grey, with a touch of yellow ochre where oxidising metal trim on the houses opposite limns the triumph of hope over experience. Metal trim is not a good idea in Wales.
Certainly, you need to learn all the tricks of a limited palette if you want to paint on a wet Welsh day. Don’t make the mistake of using Payne’s Grey, though, or you’ll find your picture turning blue. You have to mix your own grey here, using dilute raw sienna and the merest touch of cobalt blue.
Hey ho. Once more the line of trees across my view delimit it, leaving grey rainy sky behind where the hills rise. No hills today, except those in the memory.
The moss clumps on my neighbour’s roof, which were crisp and brown yesterday, have sparked into a green-edged life, softening and readying themselves for another attempt to produce spores. Fascinating to watch and it’s no surprise that some people make a life study of the lichens in damp places.
Moss, dampening into life
Our roof was similarly mossed when we moved in but the insulation we had installed in the walls and roof space seems to have discouraged it and each time I look there seems to be less and less of it. Graham threatens to wash the tiles with copper sulphate solution, to finish the colonies off once and for all. I know it’s good husbandry, but I like the softness of moss and shall regret its passing.
And, today, I plan to go off to Sainsbury’s for provisions. I expect to be tripping around from mid-week onwards, returning each evening, and I shall need easy cooking for my late dinners. And Dolly’s cupboard is less than half-full, giving me space to re-stock with tins and packets. And cat litter. Cat litter is something we can’t do without.
9 responses so far ↓
Maureen // August 10, 2009 at 11:14 am
As I look out of the window at my desk I can see the moss on our neighbours roof.It looks very untidy.The moss on our roof was removed by my other half not long after we moved in.Today started off lovely and sunny but now the sky is grey and rain-cloudy.Boo hoo!
AVT // August 10, 2009 at 11:30 am
John, Your writing today reminds me of May Sarton’s pastoral prose, her seaside tickling your rainstorm. Life’s turmoil subsides and one is left with delicate vision. The softness of moss indeed.
Chris // August 10, 2009 at 1:51 pm
Our garage roof has a thick coating of moss, which looks much more attractive than the (*ahem* asbestos) tiles beneath it. In the spring, birds descend on it in droves, for a soft lining for their nests, but it soon grows back again.
Bonnie // August 10, 2009 at 2:09 pm
You know no moss would grow on our roof.
I like the description of everything and could almost smell the cut grass. I would surely delight in the smell of rain too.
Jim // August 10, 2009 at 3:21 pm
Whenever you mention going to Sainsbury’s I picture the various Sainsbury’s I’ve shopped in on visits to the U.K. (I find I’m always interested in seeing supermarkets in different countries — yes, I know, a very strange trait — but, of course, I always needed to bring home a package of cat treats for Tiger.)
Jane // August 10, 2009 at 5:34 pm
Beautiful writing, John. A poem in paragraphs.
Anne Gibert // August 10, 2009 at 6:25 pm
As I read your lovely prose on wetness the very page seemed to drip.
wayne // August 10, 2009 at 10:42 pm
Beautiful! Made me homesick for a place I have never been. The second and fifth paragaphs just scream “I am a poem, right my form”. I think I have read all your poems you have posted but these two paragraphs… they are the best.
canyon cottage // August 11, 2009 at 6:25 pm
I can feel the dampness in my bones from your description. Oh and correct on the cat litter! Can’t have a dirty dirt box!
Like gas stations in rural Texas after 10 pm, comments are closed.