Today dawned early with a sky that lightened not into that beautiful cornflower blue that I love so much, but into a solid grey mass hanging heavily overhead. After some yoga and some oatmeal, the skies decided to let down and it has been raining ever since.
It saps your energy, that rain. It isn’t the sort of rain that thrills you with the power of the storm. Nor is it the light, misty mildness of a spring morning that can’t decide if it is fogging or raining. Instead, this is merely a relentless shedding of water, cold and heartless, and uncaring whether you have an umbrella or not, or whether your fingers are chilled to the bone.
It is a most decidedly unfriendly rain.
I miss my blue skies. I miss the warmth of the sun. So do the sunflowers growing outside the kitchen window. Mammoth Russian, they are, and mammoth is an appropriate name for them. They tower several feet over my head with stems as thick around as my wrists and flower heads that stretch a good 30 cm or more across. They are giants, these flowers of ours, and so bright and cheerful, they could rival the sun.
It is hard to get a sense of scale from this photo, but trust me when I say this flower is huge, each leaf larger than my head, the whole plant standing a good 2 meters in height. A rival for the sun, indeed, and a little bit of brightness on a rainy day.