RIP K

Thank you for your thoughtful comments about yesterday's tragic news. K was another one far too young to die: just 50.

A couple of the photos I took in her garden on Monday have ended up as a condolence e-card for her husband and (adult) children, instead of a pick-you-up for K herself. What sadness. These roses are among the best.

Perhaps unsurprisingly her untimely death has resulted in some introspection on my part about my life. Of late I have had a feeling of slight ennui. While I continued to feel grateful for my lifestyle - for Chez Mima, for Bean, for my good fortune to be here and now - I had nevertheless felt some ho-hum-ness about each passing day. Perhaps I was even taking it a little for granted?

The shock of yesterday's news has completely knocked that complacency out of my system. I woke this morning (from a terribly disturbed night dominated by dreams of K's laughter and her smiling face) with the thought that I am so damned lucky to be alive, to have lasted this long, to be in the place I am.

The rain - which actually arrived as forecast - has been a cause for celebration. I stood on the lawn with my arms held out to  the sky as I embraced the raindrops falling on my face. What joy. It's nowhere near enough rain to replenish our parched ground, but I welcome every millimetre right now.

I should hasten to add that (for once) I was fully-dressed while enjoying the gift of water from the clouds: a cold southerly blew the rain in overnight and it wasn't a morning for naked cavorting.

I hardly need mention that Bean is less enthusiastic about today's weather.