the morning after rain
clouds are swirling
parting for the sun
feet sink into soft ground
and I can breathe in air
that's light and fresh
sweet with dampness
fragranced with grass
with creatures and wet earth

the morning after rain
hawthorn berries are glistening
finches dart for shallow worms
and in every direction
crows calling, magpies warbling 
I can see the willows shaking off summer 
thistles black and disintegrating

the morning after rain
paints a backdrop for the present:
our world awash with beauty
smothered with overuse
studded with grief
abundant life
we hope still

Early autumn is a beautiful season, and this year is no exception with her crisp mornings and sublime sunshine soaked afternoons. There is much to lament over at the moment, conflicts in the world and devastating floods in our own land. Locally as the virus circulates along with common colds and bugs, businesses struggle to keep on and we feebly plan for the future. And yet the season keeps unfurling, making us stop and wonder, hope and pray. Early autumn is brimming with colour: the garden lush from rain and the deep pink of valerian and sedum, hedgerows dotted with red hawthorn berries and rosehips, the bees are busily gathering pollen and nectar from the flowering yellow box, lavender, catmint and dandelions. The cows have begun to calve and the chickens keep laying delicious brown and speckled eggs. I have years of linen scraps gathering dust in a big box - and recently decided to try to use some of them up in various ways - I have hand sewn 166 hexagons for this big cushion and am experimenting with garments and other things to give as gifts. I am trying to sketch more often in my journal, the familiar marks of blue ink bringing comfort and catharsis. Listening to a favorite song by Wovenhand that captures the season well and reading the pages of Marilynne Robinson's book Home: “There's so much to be grateful for, words are poor things"... //