The clouds threatened early this morning. The wind began blowing hard at the owl bell. Rain started to fall just as the first sounds from the alarm clock entered my awareness.
All was unnaturally dark, but when the light finally crept through the masses of cloud, it revealed their ominous and boiling underbelly. A flock of sea gulls scudded over our house at high speed, riding the wind all night long from the ocean. I’m sure they thought themselves very clever for getting a free ride, but wait till they find out how far they will have to fly to get back home.
Then the downpour started. The sparrows huddled in the nooks and crannies of the back fence, only needing a few inches of shelter to keep them out of the blowing rain. All the trees are bare and offer no help.
Even our rose trellis on the front porch was pressed into service. A usually spurned resting place, for reasons I have never understood.
Perhaps Bob used to lurk there, but since his disappearance, the birds had nothing to fear. They sat on the top of it, well out of the rain and consulted each other on preening techniques in between gusts of wind.
And now that my mood has been firmly set by this wild, dark and forbidding weather, the blue sky arrives from the west. So I am supposed to suddenly be filled with joy? The soggy sparrows and I ruffle our feathers in disgust.
Fickle weather. Away with you. And take those silly seagulls with you.