I think one of the very first postings I did on my original blog was about the flooding, and this was one of the photos which accompanied it. May well be like that again soon . . .
As I sit and type, the rain is hammering down on the roof and scouring a day's cow treadings and worse from the lane outside our gate. Our goldfish were thinking of exploring the garden yesterday - they become ever closer to that experience this evening!
On our way back from picking D up from Ammanford yesterday, we drove along a Towy Valley whipped by the tail of the gale. Already water meadows were living up to their name, cattle and sheep had moved to higher ground in their fields and part of the A40 was under a foot of water where a stream had burst its banks. A gaggle of excited children were stood just out of reach of any spray from passing cars, though it was a near miss when we ploughed through, concerned we got no water up the exhaust especially as this was THE only route back, our bottom lanes being under water.
There was a break in the rain, and as I was a passenger for a change, I scribbled down a few words of description. For once, I have followed that up with a rough copy for a poem (thanks to the Weaver of Grass for getting me writing again too!)
The trees on the hillfort lean away from the gale
Like greyhounds loosed from the leash,
Their leaves combed from the whipping branches
By a callous hand. Strewn in tousled heaps,
They fetch up against the hedge-roots,
Jittering like nervous lovers, then forcing themselves
Through bare branches like water through a colander.
Gleaming puddles lie on the sullen ploughed fields,
Their surface ruffled by the wind into irritated shivers,
Reflecting the lemon lollipops of the last hazel leaves
Which prance in the stripped hedgerows.
A gleam of lime green on Merlin's Hill
Is wiped out by a fist of clouds, which
Scud along the valley and as I look behind me,
Drag their lilac petticoats across Black Mountain and beyond.
With many thanks to tl for the notion of clouds dragging their petticoats and wishing I had her originality with beautiful words . . .