Look to the hills . . . .

If only we could see the hills now through the low cloud and winter rain! This acrylic was painted during the last bright and sunny days of autumn.

However, I think the poem below sums up my current mood: the wet and dreary days we are experiencing at the moment whilst living with the pandemic. The euphoria of last week, when the first inoculations began, was short lived. The infection rates around here are rising very rapidly. I don’t think “social distancing “ features in the psyche of our neighbours in some of the South Wales valleys.

The Rainy Day

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary
.

Henry Wandsworth Longfellow

To cheer the mood a little, although still on the subject of rain the next is a poem. reminiscent of “puddle jumping “ and splashing through the rain as loved by all kids.

I can remember my late mother reading this to my sister and I when we were very little from the R L Stevenson anthology for children.

“The Rain is raining all around,
It falls on field and tree,
It rains on the umbrellas here.
And on the ships at sea.”

Robert Louis Stevenson

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