We seem to have had nothing but torrential rain here for weeks. Not a day has gone by without the heavens opening at some point… not even on days that have begun with frost. But, on the first morning that the clocks began to count the hours of darkness, I look out at the rain-drenched garden and cannot help thinking of a line from a childhood hymn, ‘after the sun, the rain, after the rain the sun, this is the way of life…’.
Every leaf, every petal, sparkling and shimmering in the breeze. Surfaces encrusted with diamond droplets that capture, refract and reflect the sunlight, hold on to their treasure until the sun’s warmth waves its wand and the jewels disappear. It is a moment of pure magic.
The floor is a carpet of russet, gold and green where the trees have shed their summer garments. And yet, there are still flowers in the garden, despite the chill of approaching winter. A little white butterfly braves the morning and the robin sings to welcome this brief return of the light.
Even the tiniest leaves reach up to offer themselves as a chalice. Even the smallest droplet holds the immensity of the sun. And I am reminded that Nature teaches through beauty as well as in darkness.