Sunday, 31 March 2013
2 pm: an old-fashioned Sunday imposed but once a year; suburban streets are empty, almost silent, restless.
Posted by Jean at 14:13 No comments:
Friday, 29 March 2013
11 am: the long-absent sunshine comes and goes; just a few minutes, seconds even, at a time - rarely has it felt more precious.
Posted by Jean at 14:58 1 comment:
Thursday, 28 March 2013
1 pm: the warm scent of white hyacinths, not quite snuffed out by chilled and stagnant air.
Posted by Jean at 08:18 No comments:
Wednesday, 27 March 2013
9.50 am: there's a small man outside in the street with a very large wooden reel of cable hoisted on his shoulder - disconcertingly low tech!
Posted by Jean at 10:40 1 comment:
Tuesday, 26 March 2013
6.20 pm: lighter evenings and aching cold - these things don't go together; oh, unforgiving, out-of-kilter season!
Posted by Jean at 20:48 No comments:
Monday, 25 March 2013
3.30 pm: 'perishing cold', old people used to say when I was small; no surprise that the once-familiar phrase resurfaces today - that's exactly how it feels.
Posted by Jean at 17:02 No comments:
Sunday, 24 March 2013
2 pm: when we call something eye-watering, it's often at least partly a metaphor, evoking emotional as much as physical sensation. Nothing metaphorical about today's cold.
Posted by Jean at 20:32 No comments:
Saturday, 23 March 2013
3.30 pm: snow like a child's toy 'snowstorm', fine and powdery. It looks so soft and gentle, but the wind chill and the interludes of icy sleet are not.
Posted by Jean at 15:56 No comments:
Friday, 22 March 2013
3.45 pm: the f has allen o the ca é - one piece missing and the rest becomes random and meaningless.
Posted by Jean at 17:57 No comments:
Wednesday, 20 March 2013
10.05 pm: the word 'embeddedness' embeds itself. Four shelving, rocky strata: in the chilly evening they reverberate.
Posted by Jean at 22:45 No comments:
Tuesday, 19 March 2013
3.40 pm: oh, the air, the light, so soft - so soft, you think the season's morphed - it's spring! But you know that soon, with a shiver, it will all shut down again. Until it doesn't.
Posted by Jean at 16:50 No comments:
Monday, 18 March 2013
2.20 pm: The room grows darker, then the keyboard disappears, then thunder, lightning, rain against the window: plunged into a dim, damp place.
Posted by Jean at 14:30 No comments:
Saturday, 16 March 2013
3.50 pm: a tantalising glimpse of fragile sunshine that brightens but barely warms; no sooner here than it's dodging clumps of cloud and preparing to dip behind the rooftops.
Posted by Jean at 15:55 No comments:
Friday, 15 March 2013
6.09 pm: jangling fiddles shake the radio; a car door slammed in the street shakes the window; the quietly grating sound of a yawn that becomes a sigh.
Posted by Jean at 18:13 No comments:
Thursday, 14 March 2013
2 pm: it's the season of shadows - look down and look around and there are all these flattened tree-prints stamped across the roads and footpaths, lawns and walls and doors.
Posted by Jean at 18:00 No comments:
Wednesday, 13 March 2013
1 pm: that cold, spiky stuff is falling from the sky again, but the air has grown warmer, thick and muddy - weather that jabs and at the same time stifles.
Posted by Jean at 16:21 No comments:
Tuesday, 12 March 2013
11 am: outside the florist's shop the potted red and yellow polyanthus spread their frilly velvet skirts, quivering and shivering in the sunshine and the icy wind.
Posted by Jean at 15:48 1 comment:
Monday, 11 March 2013
6.20 am: the croaking of seagulls driven far inland by gales at sea; a heavy silence, then the muffled swish-swish-swish of a passing car.
Posted by Jean at 08:45 No comments:
Sunday, 10 March 2013
6 pm: something between hail and sleet taps insistently on the window; fingers of cold fumble their way inside, trace chilly patterns on the walls and ceiling of the darkening room.
Posted by Jean at 17:56 No comments:
Saturday, 9 March 2013
11.20 am (Radio 3 CD Review): the Handel excerpt is a coracle filled with notes bobbing on the waves, and behind it another and another, happy as a line of swimming ducklings.
Posted by Jean at 11:33 3 comments:
Friday, 8 March 2013
3 pm: water pours off the edge of my umbrella; one shoulder, soaked, turns a darker shade of green and a dark, wet border creeps upwards from the hem of my coat, flaps heavily against my legs.
Posted by Jean at 21:13 1 comment:
Thursday, 7 March 2013
6 am: it's raining on the red car parked beside the street-lamp and the lamp illuminates the droplets trickling from the shiny roof and down the windows.
Posted by Jean at 10:10 1 comment:
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