Day 139

Wet path through the meadow.

What a lot of water falling from the sky!  Visited the meadow twice today, its green shiny wetness quite enticing, and on the way up, the pine-needled forest floor with moisture-added colour - a deep rusty redness.

I ran 2.22 miles (3.57 km) through the cold rain this evening.  Wet wet shoes, cold cold toes... and then, warm toes, each foot creating a little wetsuit out of its running shoe.

I can almost not bear to listen to the radio anymore, hearing about the oil gushing out of the sea floor in the Gulf of Mexico, and now perhaps becoming part of the Gulf Stream and threatening the beautiful wetlands of the Florida Keys, and even our own east coast!  It is too difficult, too heart-searing to contemplate.

This evening after supper Nick and I were talking while Matthew unpacked the dishwasher, when Nick suddenly exclaimed, "You can't be serious, Matt", and I looked around to see Matthew building a tower out of bowls and other crockery on the second shelf of the cupboard, just adding things randomly as he took them from the dishwasher!  I too scolded him and he then complained that his "creativity was being stifled".

Whenever you can't find a kitchen utensil, or something like a jug, which has a set place in a cupboard, you have to think very laterally, like Matthew, to locate it where it is happily ensconced with foreign objects, a jug alone amongst the plates, or a puzzled fork suddenly finding itself sleeping with the spoons. 

When I returned from my morning walk with the black dog through the soft dewy day, my damp hair was escaping from my hood in tender tendrils caressing my face.