I am altogether not sure about the z and s in the spellings of these words. It was always s in my day, a zillion yonks ago, and there’s a thing. Zillions were Millions back then and that was beyond most everyone even then. So I play with the ‘zee’ and the ‘ess’ for godsake. Language changes after all, and I don’t know what that means, not neither. Moving on……..I have been full of thinks these past quiet times, and not just thinks, although the thinks-thing is of value, in that it, the think, thinks me. I had the eyeball check, all ok in that nothing will heal my left eyeball. My right is right as right. I was always right oriented, not that I need to be right, but my right side is my strength. Writing or any other thing, I do with my right. But I need my left, to educate me. So, my leftie is a tad compromised? We can deal with this, the two of us. And there’s the thing, again.
The clouds louer, growl, hover, push down, closing the sky. That sounds so like a sentence, but it is nothing of the sort. We know clouds out here, in the hawk spit of a volcanic finality, where it landed, where we live. It rains and loud, like a growing out of all sound, even the meen of a liquidiser, conversation stalled, loud, that loud. The Western isles clouds move like queens out on the raz. They come with punch and independence and consequence. I have known these trixy clouds for decades. We have had many conversations. They have guided me through lambing, sailing, hanging out the washing, choosing time to walk, to lead the horses, the bull, the milk cow to a field, or out of it. A keek at them clouds, and a wee question, sometimes a negotiation, and we have worked our way through the days.
I know that weather has changed, but for those of us who knew this was coming, it is no surprise. I know I have the benefit of longtime association with clouds, and intuition around weather patterns, but anyone can learn this. I am no scientist, no clever student. I just know that we can catastrophise and dramatise. We can hide, pretend it isn’t happening, but it is. And, happily we can realise and research and be aware as much as possible. And life is so beautiful. I hear at times, those who hold on to what was, the summers we knew, the way fungi should not be rising just now, what happened? That pointless question.
We can catastrophise, dramatise, or realise, and get going with how it is, how things are. It is a beautiful understanding, and an opening in the clouds, and more, an opportunity. Roses are fabulous this year, the sun blast sudden and as a real head turn, the random warmth like a mother, colours rise like fires in the grey, raindrops diamond, people laugh at the turn of it all. There is so much for the ones who notice, who engage.
Dont’ miss this. Realise.
Judy Fairbairns 