no rain today (11/July/18)

what I learned today, well yesterday actually now as I put pen/ finger to paper/ keyboard… the middle day of the year is 2nd July, I just worked it out, day 183 (excluding leap years which mess it up a bit) and yet no one pays it a blind bit of attention, maybe it can be recognised (or not!) as Neglected Day…… I just worked out that it hasn’t rained here, on Anglesey that is, since 20th June and it’s now the 11th July with no sign of rain in the forecast until next week at the earliest even if it happens at all… this is almost unprecedented, as is that since mid-June and even before the temperatures have lingered in and above the middle twenties and even thirties Celsius…… who needs water anyway when we have climate change and endless sunbathing opportunities for the feckless and ignorant… but then…
it rained!….
… on the very day I said it hasn’t rained since… were those the magic words all along?… who’d have thought…… although the first attempt was merely a few globlets of rain which lasted all of two minutes and 10 seconds… ‘ish… yes, I timed it, I’m that sad…… but then…
a little more which lasted longer over half an hour and even though dampened the patio was still barely enough to bother a rain gauge… and then…
a rainbow!…
… of all things and barely took any rain to make one but there it was, faint, incomplete, hanging like an apology and no explanation as to where it and its cohort rain had been all these weeks… it grew more rainbow bit by bit weirdly sliding across the sky as it did it’s wake fading as it did like dissipating vapour trails…… and then…
it stopped raining…
… I think the plants were quite disappointed at this anti-climax as it barely touched the soil beneath them never mind enough to leach down to their roots…… then I went to bed, sleep, woke around 4am, peeked, it had rained more, wasn’t now but clear evidence, ever-so slightly moister paving stones and even a few leaves still retained a glisten or two… so hah!…. it had sneakily precipitated overnight but again immeasurable in anything but nanomillimetres, but still… it ‘rained’, or got a bit damp…. so here we are, day 192 past the point of no return in a year of two halves, or twelve twelfths, or 365 three hundred and sixty fifths……… I never said my maths was great…..

© 2018 robert greig

unrelated rag (9/July/18)

the sky’s parched, baked hard, become vitrified, or maybe ossified, can it even be either, but they do rhyme, a sky bleached blue… can a blue be bleached?…. clouds when they appear languish like beached whales unsure what to do next or how they even got there, probably all the noise, of the modern world, so much of it, noise, and underwater sound travels even further, at least deep resonant frequencies do, disorienting anything with a finely-tuned but unwary navigation system making “where am I!” guesses all the harder… but the sky isn’t the sea, although some poets seem to compare it so or to something else other than the sky itself, although, they may have a point, can you compare something to itself as itself?… surely there needs to be an oth­er to make comparison possible… but there isn’t always an other to utilise when you need it, like a policeman, or a bus, never there when you need one, or that retort you wanted to say at the time and only thought of later and kick yourself for not getting your clever come-back in at the time…. the brain moves in mysterious ways…. take today’s daily blog for example, I woke up this morning, started scribbling down something on my mind and when I got to slapping it up on screen, whaddya know!, it’s not that, it’s something totally different and unrelated… I could kick myself but actually have you ever really tried kicking yourself, quite tricky if not nigh impossible, certainly to do it effectively, I can trip myself though, and that rhymes, mostly, assonantly at least… I have tripped myself before now, although not deliberately as that’s just as tricky as kicking yourself and if you try it looks more comedic than convincing, but sometimes your legs just get tangled for one reason or another, like your tongue but really that has no excuse as you only have one tongue so it can’t really get tangled as such not being another one in there to snag it on, unless you’re snogging but then that’s a different story entirely… yet again, no rain, good thing or bad thing?… well depends who you ask though no doubt when it comes and as soon as it does and it will, there’ll be someone, many someones, who’ll say exasperatedly, “well (humph!), so that was summer then”…. and much later come the first signs of autumn will be the ones moaning “well (humph!), didn’t have much of a summer then did we”…… there’s no pleasing some folk……

© 2018 robert greig

the discombobulated cloud (8/July/18)

the stray cloud couldn’t find which way to go as it hung there all discombobulated… why was it even here, where had it come from?… why is it asking itself these question it clearly has no idea the answers too?… I suppose it’s what we do when we are mystified by something, as indeed the stray, discombobulated cloud was… he wasn’t very big at best and worried that perhaps he found an answer he might fragment and vaporise, even now he felt his fringes decidedly wispy to say the least but all in all, despite not knowing why he was there, all alone, alone, all alone in the big wide blue, he was still clearly there, a whole cloud and nothing but a cloud… but the only one… had he slept through the moment all the other got up and flew south, or north, or even west, maybe east, migrating to better climes for clouds?…… now he was just annoyed with himself for having overslept or been daydreaming at such a crucial moment, he’s always doing that and he knows it, “head in the clouds” as others tell him, he’d kick himself if he had legs… he shook himself out of this momentary self-pity in case he accidentally rained tears which he knew wouldn’t best please those way down on the ground below, the dots that move around like, well dots, he didn’t have another word for them and luckily ‘dots’ came to mind which is just as well as he did prefer single syllable words as they seem easier for clouds to pronounce, he didn’t know why this was but some things just are, as it seems him being here totally out of place in a vast of blue…. at least sky only has a single syllable, he told himself…… and he’d realised he had had the same view for hours now, or minutes, he couldn’t tell, time wasn’t something clouds were particularly skilled not being horologists or anything suchlike, as they have way too many syllables, so, he thought, where was the wind?… even the wind has abandoned me, flown south, or north, or maybe west or possibly east, he didn’t know, like everything else at the moment seemed out of his increasingly wispy grasp… more wisps!… he just realised in all this reverie he’d got wispier, like someone was combing him out… out of the sky?… is this what happened to the other clouds, were they combed away by some demon barber or worse, a hair sky’list!?…… he felt an exclamation and question mark were required due to the ever-baffling and worrying nature of events… he felt very blue right now, as blue as the sky almost which was as blue as sky get he thought and as blue as he’d maybe ever seen, and seemed to be getting bluer… and bluer… and bluer… and…… hold on, I’m blue, not white, and where are my wispy bits?… and wait, hold on, I don’t feel cloudy anymore, I feel… sky’y… if that’s even a feeling then I feel it, he curiously wondered… and if clouds could smile then he did as he’d become sky and joined all the other clouds which had also become sky in the rising heat of the day, becoming the finest blue adding to the finest blue that already stretched from north to south to east to west.

(this was one of a number of endings I wrote for this wispy tale……)

© 2018 robert greig