We Had Been Conned

Anticipating more showers after a short spell of sunshine this much clearer morning we took an early trip down a very wet Lower Pennington Lane and back.

Vehicles en route along Christchurch Road continued to splash sprays of standing pools over themselves and others.

The occasional dog walker waded among the overflow from the

rippling reflective rivulets running down the gutters joining runnels across the pock-marked tarmac.

Overhead branches relinquished onto ruffled runlets ripped leaves that sank beneath or imprinted themselves on the mirror of accumulated rainwater.

Vehicular lights, front and back, gleamed on the fluid surface.

Skeletal trees were silhouetted against the constantly changing skies.

Further down the lane waterlogged open fields were a more natural element for honking Canada geese, cawing crows, more silent waterfowl, and squelching cattle.

I was forced to wait in the car before photographing these fauna because the only shower – a heavy one blurring the windows – that we experienced during the rest of a sun-filled day hit me head on as I ventured out. Clearly we had been conned by the meteorologists.

This evening we all dined on Jackie’s herby penne Bolognese with which she drank Hoegaarden and I drank more of the Italian red wine.