A little humid this morning, less wind than yesterday, a little bit of drizzle and the cloud base down to about 400m at times. There is a decent amount of water now, rushing down the steps and into Valehouse Reservoir. A quiet, unassuming morning, and a time for being wrapped up in the process of walking. I saw my first sheared sheep of the year in a field above Padfield.
The sun’s out now I’m home, and I can see a low drizzle-bow.
There’s something rather beautiful about the drizzle falling through the sunlit air outside the front window.
I feel as if I’ll never have any influence on what happens to my country anymore, not through the vote, not through anything. Our culture will be crushed by the American jagarnath. We’ll have a weird kind of freedom, and it’ll be ‘no work, no bread’ which I speculate is one of the reasons some countries have been hit hard by the pandemic – people afraid to stop working. Just think about the Parable of the Labourers in the Vineyard for the moment. It’s reckoned to say something about God’s kingdom and the people of God, but consider it possible that it also says something about vineyards, and labourers, and remuneration.
As the sun rises, the rainbow sinks, disappearing into the ground.