We just sat with all the lights off, cuddled up in front of our bay window and watched the thunder and lightning.
I checked on Ida but she was out for the count. Zeph came hurtling down in his pjamas at the first crash. I think it must have been right overhead as there seemed to be no pause between the lightning and the peal so we switched everything off and enjoyed the show.
The most amazing storm I ever saw was over Lake Garda in northern Italy when I was seventeen. The lightning lit up the ridges all around us and you could see the olive trees on the slopes. I was wet from the warm rain. The sky was various shades of purple and I knew I’d never forget it.
The air feels clearer now and Loki knows, the ground could do with the rain. If I could just request a clear patch for my garden centre jaunt in the morning I’d be v. grateful.
I’ve gathered my BT’s extra carefully as a friend of a friend of a friend lost her beautiful three-year old daughter today. I send her all the love in the world and hold my children very tight. We swam after school today and I watched Z practising his dive. Puzzling how he is so strong and immense and immediate – filling my life- like breathing rock and so fragile and precious like delicate soap bubbles. I make myself shudder at the thought of them blinking out like bubbles then push the thought away and carry on.
The dive is improving, at least the belly flopping is down to about one in five. He is triumphant and jubilant – Ida applauds every dive like a lovestruck groupie.
While looking for something to cook for tea tomorrow in the bottom of the freezer I find a forgotten and forlorn mint cornetto. It’s waiting for me – the minute I press publish.
I’ve nearly finished
bodging knitting Ida’s stripy tank top. Just got to work out how to do the neck…
Ida drew a sheep today – and it kind of looked like one as well. She also spent the day calling me Laura. I’m ignoring it. In many ways it was a long a day as yesterday. I appreciated every minute.