Rain

The garden is soaked, the earth beneath the sparse grass must be overwhelmed with water and the newer rain has nowhere to go. It lays on the lawn in small pools. The conservatory is leaking in the corner and the slow pat-pat of it dripping into a plastic tub occasionally seeps through into the room where I am sitting with all the lights on. The day is overcast, dark, gloomy. It has been like this since new year’s day.

However, this is nothing compared to other people’s experiences in the north, who have been flooded, have lost homes and possessions, possibly more than once, more than twice now.

The lawn is hanging on, fighting against the regular paw-tread of the Spaniel and, for the past few weeks, the constant rain. More mud is gradually coming to the foreground, the green becoming more sporadic. It needs to fight a few months more.