16 July, 2014

Sunshine in a storm

Amidst the storm, water trickles from the stony ledge to the powdery soil below; the droplets slowly being absorbed into the reluctant earth. The sheltered ground beneath the jutting stone is just the place to wait out the thunder and lightning. It's cold, but I guess you can't have everything. At least it's dry and protected from the rain with a pile of old dry leaves for a cushion.

From the leafy cushion, small green fronds curtain over the stone's lip a bit like a green waterfall, from which the rivulets of water runs. There are layers to this curtain, made of various mosses intertwined with delicate frills of something that reminds one of crocheted lace and ferns. Mini ferns with tiny fronds that underlay the heavier, but no less fine grass blades and other intricate creepers of a miniscule nature. It's like seeing a mini forest within the forest and gives a sense of worlds within worlds within worlds and where will it end?

In the distance, a tiny bird is huddled under a clump of leaves in a tree, its feathers ruffled up to retain extra heat, but looking like a miserable man standing at a bus stop, with coat collars turned up, trying to keep out the cold and hoping that the bus will hurry up, so that he can escape the wet and cold.

A rabbit comes dashing suddenly through the undergrowth, pausing momentarily under the shelter, giving no second glance when it sees no sudden or unnatural movement. It takes each ear in its paws in turn, wringing out the extra water and fussing at which way the fur should run. Licking its paws and washing its face, the rabbit glances over, sneezes and dashes back out, probably hoping to get back to its warm, dry burrow before it is completely soaked. A flash of lightning and an almost immediate boom of thunder causes it to jump sideways, skittering a little on the slippery grass, before it finds its footing again and is gone with a bound.

Water drips and drops in musical notes over the background drumming of the downpour. One more roll of the thunder and suddenly there's a patch of blue in the sky of heavy grey clouds. Brilliant sunlight streams down, making the water sparkle everywhere like freshly polished jewels that have been purposely scattered to reflect the sun's radiance. It's almost too bright, but at least the streaming sunlight brings the remembrance of what warmth is.

For a moment, time stands still.

Like a musical pause and before a thought can be thought or an emotion felt, the rain returns in angry earnest, the clouds denying the existence of the fleeting patch of blue, pretending the sun had never been.

But it had.

And the memory of that moment of bright warmth warms the heart through the long hours whilst waiting for the storm to pass.

No comments:

Post a Comment