The weather is unpredictable at the moment: sunshiney blue-skied patches, followed by days (like today) when the heavens open and gales whistle around my little apartment. These days make me long to hibernate. I lose all energy for anything other than watching The West Wing boxset and drinking cups of tea. Today I am taken by the idea of making a Lemon Curd and Blueberry Cake; but that would involve leaving the house to get flour and icing sugar, and baby, it’s cold outside.
But some days like this, I like to revel in the rain. Last week there was a day that was truly tempest-like. There was more rain in that one day, than fell in the entirety of July and August last year. The winds were gale force. Trees fell across tram-tracks. And I put on these little joys:
and I went puddle-jumping.
I bought these in Edinburgh about a year ago; I was smitten as soon as I saw the chickens.
I imagine myself in years to come, trampling around in the mud, feeding my chooks and using their eggs for a new variation of a Lemon Curd and Blueberry Cake, still wearing these Gumboots. But on Tempest Day 2011, I instead waited until I finished work for the day, and then channelled my inner-child for jumping into large puddles of rain.
It made me incredibly happy. It made me feel free. And it made me feel grateful for the rain, which so often I look at as an inconvenience. I might put on my Chicken Gumboots now and go to the supermarket for that flour and make that cake.