22nd August

From dawn the day is damp. The pine needles deaden sound. The air is filled with their dank aroma. The green sea has little white caps on the waves. The beach is flat and empty save for a lone dog walker and a few hardy swimmers. The flags stream out from the flagpoles. The Green is mostly empty. A large white butterfly flits along the bramble stems. A single wagtail. Pigeons. odd gulls. Everything seems to be happening somewhere else. Here and there, though, a single flower responds to the moisture after the drought and opens in a determined effort to show that summer is still here. As dusk draws on a dreary drizzle drifts in across the misty bay.

From August 22nd 2021

More of the same choppy changey, roller-coastery, switch-backy, decidedly undecided summer. Rain in the night, followed by a pleasant autumn couple of hours first thing, then grey skies but humid and warm. Windy, calm, blue skies this afternoon. I have run out of epithets and adjectives. All I can say is that, looking back, last year was just as bad.