what a difference a day makes

 

What a difference a day makes . . . ‘my yesterday was blue, dear’, as the lyrics say, and it was wet and a tad miserable. The horizon line was indistinguishable  in the murky atmosphere so I resorted to looking at the rain on the foliage of plants close-by. Pittosporum tobira by the front steps. Poor plant keeps falling over every time there’s a strong storm from the west. It’s also out grown the huge clay pot and now the pot has shattered so something will have to be done . . . but this wasn’t the day to be mucking around with wet soil so I concentrate on looking at the raindrops hanging off the small fruits . . .

 . . and the drips rolling down the foliage of the Euphorbia mellifera and Geranium madarense below . . . all too green, green, green. And the same green!

Striking and vibrant tones on the Molinia however  . . .

. . and even livelier on the Trachelospermum. This plant has gone into shock for one reason or another but, anyhow, it’s a jolly vision and quite festive  in all this gloomy dampness.

The group on the little table has an addition of some mussel shells. I use shells as a mulch around all the plants – these must have been washed down from the deck above in the torrent. 

This morning at least the horizon is clear. Large and beautiful cloud formations hang overhead and move like a symphony . . . sublime  allegro . . .

and slower adagio. The sky looks uncertain but there’s a glimmer of blue to the east . . . and the sky above  the Old Town High Street is a definite improvement.

Up at the allotment, it’s a beautiful afternoon although claggy underfoot. Some small apples still cling to the tree . . .

 . . and even the greeness of the fennel has more definition today. 

The hedgerow is ablaze with fruits of the hawthorn . . . the scherzo . .

 . . . and the rondo, or return, to a lovely settled evening. 

And as Dinah Washington is singing  ‘and the difference is you, the sun’.