Wonderful stuff, sloshing down our hill, beating down the petunias. Grey drizzly clouds hanging across the valley like a curtain, blocking out any view farther than the highest line of banana trees. It's a fiesta of the senses: the feel of rain on our upturned faces, the pungent smell of soaked earth and the glorious sound of ecstatic birds, most particularly a mouthy blue tit who has been hanging around taunting the cats of late.
If there's one thing Spanish birds appreciate it's a good old downpour.
Darkness is almost upon us and I can still hear blackbirds singing as they swoop past.
I love looking at your work. really good. ps the link works fine. Alan
ReplyDeleteThanks so much Alan.
ReplyDeleteThe feeling's mutual, I love popping over to yours to get a whiff of the Cornish coast. Intrigued as to which way the red canvas will go though, a new departure?