The rain comes

The rain came last night, heavy this time and continuing into the morning.  Leaves are glossy with rain drops held in precious pools and a ladybird shelters on a leaf.

The mill stream is hurrying and rushing making its presence known in a way it has not been able to do for weeks while the moss on the ground which had become dry and crisp is now soft, deadening the sound of footsteps. 

 At the top of the lane the two ash trees stand sentinel growing taller and more impressive with time. The ferns that clothe the banks on the side of the slope are a brilliant emerald green.

Wall stones separated in the dry weather have dislodged where they were held together by the moss while sycamore ‘helicopters’ have crash landed and heavy ash keys lie on the ground.

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