Battered

The weather has turned for the worse - to put it mildly! Bright between the showers, but cold - and very wild and windy. The poor daffodils and tulips have just about had enough!

I'm feeling the same. Back into my long skirt, thick tights and boots today! It is beginning to get a tad depressing, and frustrating. I'm itching to get the garden properly under way, to get the seedlings transplanted and the outdoor seeds sown. And I'm always in wellies . . . .

Hey ho - it can't last for ever . . . there are lines from a poem going through my head, something about the poet's great coat still being on the back of the door in April.

Found it! From my hippie phase in 1974 . . .

God of our fathers, if you can hear, send
another summer please before I die. The
cold within, without goes on too long. My
great coat has been on the rack just inside
the hall near half a year now. Too long. Too
long for one whose body's only healed by
shades of summer brown. Pale I am and
ready for another August.

Hurry up and in exchange I will spend
the months till then on my knees in prayer.

by Rod McKuen