April Showers

We have just had the first rain of the month, and the place has been heavy with damp and blossom today, almost late-summer in its lethargy and its eyelid drooping misty light. The leaves, particularly the on chestnut trees, are so newly-green they make you think of innocence,purity and guitar based rock, while oaks and beeches are still budding and the light just hangs around in the perfumed evening. It's been an odd month; with only one day's worth of rain so far it's been more like Eliot (April is the cruellest month) than Chaucer (Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote) and the ground is already hard and parched with the edge of lawns yellow or thinning. As I mentioned in a previous post, I like rain: it makes me think, it colours the limestone and it gives life. A day without rain is like a day without alcohol - devoid of luxuriance, deep shades of love, refreshment and release. For me, rain gives a different view to the world and emphasises fertility - the late spring after a few days of rain greening the valley is almost post-coital in its stretched out, loved up colour. Weeks, months without rain make me feel claustrophobic and lifeless. Rain keeps us moving - the famous British climate is a source of tremendous pleasure, as well as comfortable life. Let's have more rain, and less burning sun.