At last

rain came. Not as much as we would have liked. Although the storm that swept over Florence sounded from 25 miles like full on war. We lay in the dark listening to it’s southern edge approach. A flurry of windows and shutters being pegged back or closed, computer and router unplugged. Storms in the early hours get to me. The rain at one point sounded almost deadly but moved on.

When I picked up the reglazed door, smashed shut by a storm last summer, the roads were dry. ‘Just a sprinkling’ said the laconic glazier, ‘just enough to make us sweat more.’ Rehanging the door was less of a struggle than I’d envisioned. Thanks to The Boss.

Coming back one of the fields on our lane looked particularly lovely.