|Mile End Park, Sunday, looking like the countryside|
A confession: I look at and listen to the weather forecast several times a day, almost to the point of obsession. Nothing pleases me more than seeing that picture of a full sun or even the sun peeping from behind a cloud on those weather maps. I refuse to give in to talk of autumn just yet. The windows and the back doors are flung open every morning to let in as much air and light as I can manage before I absolutely have to batten down the hatches. I chickened out though. I held out until the equinox and I was planning to hold on until at least the end of the month, but I just lost my nerve and opened a pack of 60 deniers yesterday. I'm ashamed, especially because it proved to be a little bit previous - temperatures are forecast to be around 25 degrees here by mid week. The outdoors beckons, bare legged, bike bruised and all.
To be honest, I can't quite understand why this summer has been so slandered. Perhaps I suffer from that memory loss that mothers are reputed to have about the pains of labour. Yes, it rained, and so heavily at a couple of points that our old fashioned valley roof was overwhelmed and water dripped through our bedroom ceiling. For the most part in my mind though, it was sunny intervals. It explains my getting out of the habit of blogging. When the weather's fine, I'm just desperate to get out and make the most of the light before the nights draw in and see what there is to be seen. The other day, just along this little stretch of Mile End Park, I came across a young Bengal Cat running out of the bushes, followed closely by a bold young fox who just stopped and looked at me, by which time the cat had disappeared. Surreal. Then there's all the bird action, lots of it, odd geese lurking on the side of the canal, parakeets squawking over the allotment, flocks of long tailed tits. So I've been thinking it's time to revive the post-card, just for this week, to get back into the habit of writing here. Just imagine you've found them on the doormat when they arrive in your inbox.