“25th of December
It’s been raining for days, fine drizzle not caused by tempest but
by a mild depression, liquid silk that gives soil time to soak it up
before it runs into rivers and brooks and disappears back into
the sea. The rain falls on the old roof tiles and gives off a soothing
sound a promise, come spring the plants will be stronger and
flowers richer in colour and profusion than the year before.
Grass grows quickly in the mizzle I stroke the mule’s flank it doesn’t
mind being wet but keeps on munching on succulent feed. It is when
the westerly blows it seeks shelter under a carob tree or comes up
to the houses to be stabled. The dog awakes she wants to go out,
I put a raincoat on, we follow the lane till she has had enough and
wants to go back to her place by the fire.