Monday, 23 March 2009

Wet Stuff

It was all over the place in Blogland yesterday, from huge thunder drops to fine misty dampness. Rain has so many faces, so many moods. It can caress, refresh, bite, batter or drench, as the mood takes it. After a dry spell, garden flowers lift their petalled faces towards it eagerly, but how often does the capricious rain, after a gentle beginning, suddenly gather its strength, freeze its cold heart to hailstones and cause mayhem, especially in England, and especially at this time of year?

In the house where I used to live, the living room had large windows facing onto both front and back gardens. They were the small paned, mock Georgian variety, that divided each window into multiple wooden framed pictures, if you studied them individually as opposed to part of one large whole. The overall effect was of a private art gallery; exhibits in ordered groups, the white paintwork enhancing the muted colours of Nature that they framed.

Depending on whether you were sitting or standing in the room, so the collection altered. From the higher viewpoint the majority of glass squares highlighted plants, shrubs, lawns, with sky limited to the upper rows of windowpanes. But sit yourself down on the deep turquoise carpet to play with the children, and the sky dominated and focused the attention.

I remember one year, Spring had 'come early', we said; by February the eighth, Number One Son's birthday, the daffodils were already well advanced and I actually found one brave bud that had burst into bloom - in February- unheard of! Come March, more and more fragrant flowers jostled their dancing heads to capture every available sun beam. Everything looked fair to becoming the best Springtime we'd experienced in a long while.

My window 'art gallery' was a riot of yellow, gold and green in the lower levels, and shades of palest, springtime blues above. But we were lulled into a false sense of security, for the rain and wind had been saving a last onslaught to shatter our joy. One night they gathered forces, blew and blustered, rained and hailed, destroyed blossom on fruit trees, decimated flowerbeds, hurled bits of twigs, branches and bark from every unsuspecting tree.

Which is why I wrote the following:-

Spring Storm

Racing grey cloud
flying overhead.
Wind torn daffodils
uprooted from their bed,
lie bedraggled in the dirt,
their sun-gold yellow
the only brightness;

paper thin petals
at the mercy of the storm,
lashed by rain that watersheds
into full-flood streams
gushing over long dry beds.

Whorls and eddies appear
on the glassy, textured surface
of that frenzied flow
of perpetual motion.

Wind and water
hold the land hostage.

19 comments:

  1. That's a lovely post Jinksy, I can picture it all.X

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  2. Last week was March Break. Since I used to teach, these weeks stick in my brain, and it often occurred that we'd get fantastic weather for a few days. It happened again this past week for a few days, but the problem is that it often takes another two months before we seems to get any more days like that. It's fairly cold again now, and we woke up to a dusting of snow yesterday.

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  3. I like the varied views through windowpanes too, jinksy! Lovely poem ... so evocative.

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  4. Beautiful poem, but maybe I liked more the scene you pictured of your window art gallery -I can see all those colors!

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  5. I'll never look out of our windows the same way again - how beautifully described, Jinksy. Our very own ordered, yet constantly changing Art Gallery.

    And, gosh, what a magical wordsmith you are - such poetry!

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  6. That poem is pretty much par for the course in March, don't you think, Jinksy? I think we were lulled a bit last week with the lovely warm weather, but today March is behaving as we would expect - bluster, squall, sun and decidedly chilly.

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  7. Thank you for the music recommendation you emailed to me. I'll look on YouTube today for a sample. Sweet of you to think of me. Why don't we follow each other's blogs? I've seen your face around here at blogland and enjoyed your post today! It's wet wet wet here in Puerto Rico. <3

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  8. You have a way with words! I loved the poem.

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  9. Can you smell the damp earth? I can.

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  10. We finally have one clump of daffodils that opened over the week-end. Today it is suppose to get up to around 58F, temp says it's around 55 right now, but that air is chilly.

    Trying to think, what can I prepare for dinner/supper this evening. I've decided to pan brown some thin pork slices and lay on top of of some sauerkraut and bake in oven. Also fix some mashed potatoes and probably applesauce for dessert. I would make some biscuits, but husband is trying to cut out bread items from his diet, so that would just be a temptation for him.

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  11. It's always a beautiful pleasure to come by here - so glad I am taking a break and visiting....lovely writing....

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  12. Jinksy, we've had some convoluted rain and spring weather patterns these past few days, haven't we?

    I love all your recent poetry marking, as it does, the seasons - Beautiful, and very English, with our 'four seasons in one day' before we've even got up! xxx

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  13. Came here from authorblog - I've been searching for poetry lovers, and it appears I have found one in you. Very good poem - I love that last stanza! And the juxtaposition of innocence and violence; the title suggesting birth and danger.

    You just gained a fan. Thank you for sharing your words with us.

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  14. Jinksy, what I wouldn't give for a good spring rain right about now, a purple throbbing sky, the works!

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  15. I love the way you described the colours of your window.. just beautiful. It's still pretty cold here and no sign of any buds. Though the robins are in full force.

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  16. There should be a widget to post daily photos of changing seasons across the continents. What a spectacle to behold...

    Loved the poems.

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  17. Thanks for the word pictures, Jinsky. Lovely poem.

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  18. Jinksy - I've gone over my first post again but I guess my clue finding ability is on strike. So what is the name of your dream poetry volume? It seems to me you have more than enough wonderful stuff here to make up a book.

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