Drawing in ...

I'm sure the huge contrast with yesterday's weather had a lot to do with it, but when we sat down for dinner tonight - rather earlier than last night too - we were amazed at how dark it was outside. It wasn't really like that first thing - when I left the house at 8.15am to go to the supermarket, the car thermometer read 18ºc and the interior of the shop was much colder than the car park. The woman at the checkout was wondering how many more layers she'd need in winter. They had frozen ginger in stock today - can this be a sign that the world might survive? 

I always feel slightly traumatised after that pre-breakfast activity; it takes me a while to scrape myself together. However, I nipped outside with the kitchen pedal bin when I'd emptied it, and had fun  a horrid five minutes cleaning it thoroughly. Every so often I manage to cast aside my sluttish side... Later I went to the health shop and came back with refills of washing-up liquid and liquid soap, as well as some brazil nuts and a kilo of bread flour. (I couldn't have carried my usual 2 kilos)

In the afternoon I wrote out the talk I'm contributing to the Lay Training zoom on Saturday; I could easily do it extempore but there's a strict time limit. Then we went out for a shortish walk in the only brightness on offer locally - it was as if the area surrounding Toward Point had its own little weather bubble, for it rained as soon as we got back to the car. 

Now it's coming down in stair-rods outside and I've moved my sunflower (my lone sunflower!) under the wisteria on the wall to protect it from the full force of the rain. My photo is of our windowsill at the end of dinner tonight, with the candles lit and the sweet peas glowing, and a ghostly version of our dining room projecting into the dark garden. It's that time of year again - the nights are fair drawing in...

DRAWING IN

Tonight we lit two candles
against the Autumn gloom
cool jazz on the music deck,
cold rain a counterpoint – 
and ate the comfort food
that warms on winter’s night.
Such cocoons we build ourselves
snug against the dark – 
I hear the sax’s moaning
like wind beneath the door
and think of being out there
and flinch, and draw the blind.

C.M.M. 09/06 (Collected in Washed Up)

That was then. Tonight it was the St Matthew Passion.