THERE'S
A STRANGE mixture of brooding and brightness over the valley as I sit down
just after five this afternoon to write my diary. As the wind whips up, which
is what they've been warning
us it will do for several days, the sky takes on a bronze rather than a leaden
cast and, as rain lashes the studio window, spitting icy pips on the glass,
the wood swishes
about, its winter greenish brown
illuminated in white gold.
Some people noticed a double rainbow this afternoon but I saw just the one. It feels as if there's going to be a decisive change in the weather but the squall soon passes over and blue skies appear in the west.
It
was a similar story when we come out of the Wakefield Naturalists' meeting
at 9.15 this evening. It's calm, fine and starry but then the wind begins
to quicken. By the time we drive under the 99 arches railway viaduct on our
way home sleety
rain swishes in drifts just above the road, like the spray you get
at sea when the tops of waves are blown sideways.