It’s been one of those weekends. I meant to accomplish much but didn’t do half of what I planned. Saturday was a slow, lazy day. The rain fell incessantly. I relaxed and read and didn’t do much of anything - my favourite type of day after a hectic week. It gave me time to think about the month that has just flown by. Apart from celebrating my birthday and dealing with a bout of flu, January went the way all Januarys usually go – without much fanfare; anonymously, almost.
Sunday morning dawned bright and sunny. Out in the yard, drops from the previous night’s rain hung upside down on the washing line, like diamond beads on a necklace. I shook the line and they scattered everywhere. In the afternoon, we went for a drive, aimlessly, and ended up at Nadur Tower – the highest point on the island.
This place always has a profound effect on me – like it has a secret story to share and it wants me to tell the tale. Beyond the tower, far out at sea but moving quickly inwards, a fierce storm raged. Soon, wispy tendrils of clouds floated around the tower’s head. Hot on their heels, slate grey clouds enveloped us in darkness.
As we ran to the car, the rain started to fall. We sat there for a while, in silence, watching the rain form tiny rivulets on the windows. Then we drove away, leaving behind a brooding, lonely tower. With a story to tell.
Location: Nadur Tower, Bingemma Gap – February 2014