Wet Monday

So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky

of this black August.  My sister, the sun,

broods in her yellow room and won't come out.

Everything goest to hell; the mountains fume

like a kettle, rivers overrun; still,

she will not rise and turn off the rain.

The wonderful Derek Walcott says it all really, this is a small section of the poem Dark August which was  poem for the day on Saturday (in the book Poem for the Day Two).  Very apt considering what's happening in the world.  On a much lesser scale we also had very bizarre weather yesterday - one minute torrential rain running down the street where I work, the next brilliant sunshine.  D ran outside last night with my camera to snap a photo of a rainbow before it disappeared.  I was in the bathroom using my eyedrops so missed the whole thing!

I did manage to snap a couple of images on my phone at Bradgate Park when out for the weekly cross country.  The first is of the deer - they are absolutely beautiful and are so used to people that they will stand quite close to the path.  The second is just an amazingly large mushroom or toadstool growing in the bracken.