Spring came early this year and, by the looks of it, summer is already barking at its heels. But for now, the days are beautiful.The wheat is fast turning golden and there is delicate new growth on the branches of the trees – so delicate, the baby leaves appear translucent in the sunlight. But sometimes, like tonight, the wind blows strongly from the far, far south. It is born in the vast expanses of the Sahara, gathers momentum and speeds north, slamming into our coast, our towns and our homes.
Cooped up at the office all day, I envy the bees as they go about their business on two huge lavender bushes outside our window. The bushes smell heavenly in the warm sun and the hum of the bees is mildly hypnotising. Since as far back as I can remember, spring makes me feel restless and with that comes a fervent urge to explore. Staying indoors is such a waste of time. I feel the stirrings of my gypsy soul. I’ve taken the day off tomorrow. It is the Mischief Maker’s last day of Easter break. We will be off on another little adventure. We’ve made no plans. We’ll see where the wind takes us. And it’s blowing strong. So who knows where we’ll end up.
But tonight, surrounded by a surreal silence that only night-time can bring, I dream of skies beyond these shores. I dream of my own Spanish caravan - bedecked in colourful scarves and piled high with comfy rugs and pillows – in which I will wander from city to city, blown this way and that by the ever-changing wind. And I would see all the places that I can only dream about. The sun will shine but it will never get too hot and at night a light rain will fall that will birth diamonds in the grass.
What an incurable romantic I am. Perhaps it was these guys from another era that inspired me today.