Thunder rolled as she walked along the path towards the canal. Large single drops of thunder rain fell slowly as she opened her brolly and thought, all be it briefly, of returning home. As she passed under the arch of the tunnel over which the road went, a flash of lightening heralded the storm. Undeterred she walked on, the cloud burst erupting as she walked out of the shelter of the tunnel with it’s colourful graffiti into the grey of the day.
Turning, she saw walkers sheltering under the trees as a cyclist sped past, giving her a nod of thanks as she stood back.
The air was electric. She felt in her pocket and pulled out her phone, knowing of she went back for her camera, the moment would be lost; this would have to do!
The storm raged around her; she had no fear only joy. Alone now, the walkers and cyclists gone, she walked on, her awareness heightened.
The beauty of the storm was spectacular, as the huge rain drops splashed into the canal; puddles; mud; trees; out of the gutters from the buldings over on the other bank.
The power of the rain as it hit the ground splashing up to soak hershoes and jeans as she walked on amazed her – how long had it been she wondered, since she’d been caught in the rain like this?
Patterns began to emerge in her artists eye; patterns begging to be captured.
Looking along the path, part of her wondered if she should carry on, just for a moment. The curve of the path as it followed the canal around to the right beckoned tantalisingly… like the wicked smile of a long lost lover – just a little further she thought with a little smile; all there is to resist, is temptation it’s self… even if it means getting wet!
Walking on, her trusty brolly began to protest at the onslaught of the storm; it began to leak! So she decided to walk as far as the Mugwort, and then turn back.
Thunder rumbled as if in reply to her decision, and as she reached her destination, turned and saw, the sun was coming out! Though the rain still fell, the sun was coming through the storm clouds, and slowly grew stronger – it’s a rain shower she thought, it wont last long now, and she remembered how she and her Grandfather, caught by a heavy spring shower, sheltering under the hawthorn, full of sweet smelling blooms, one May so long ago, it seemed like another life time ago.
That rain, had, like today, bought the scent in the damp air under the trees, to her nostrils and for a while she stood unmoving under her brolly, lost in the memory of it; the smell of the mud and cow pats coming back to her, along with the cigaret smoke of his fag; the gruffness of his voice, the warmth of his rough hand as he lead her home wards.
The sun hit her wet jeans and the heat of it bought her back to reality.
The sky cleared and the rain stopped, but the leaves still shed water from their leaves, causing ripples in the puddles as she walked along in the growing heat – the air was still and heavy still with the scents of nature, now well washed and watered.
Shadows cast reflected by the puddles, caught her attention, the muddy puddles turned into mirrors soon to be dried up by the strong sun; nothing lasts forever she thought wistfully, this moment will never come again.
Then she watched, with the wonder of a child, the mists rising where the sun hit the sodden earth full on – like lost spirits they rose, reaching out towards the sun, only to disperse under his tender touch, gone forever.
And then she was back where she had begun, sun out brolly down, with only her wet shoes and jeans to remind her of the walk, oh and the photo’s on her phone. As she turned home wards back under the arch of the tunnel, a childhood poem her Grandfather had taught her began to run through her mind…