Summer

It's starting to heat up. Summer is bearing down and I, as ever, am not really prepared. Not ready for the clouds of mosquitoes and the profusion in the garden which will grow wild through the wet if I let it. Not ready for the humidity and the endless hours of light, or for the approaching hysteria that is the commercial side of Christmas.

I do look forward to the sunsets, though, the intensity of the colours at this time of year. I wish for some good storms too. We'll put up our feet on the patio and watch the lightening claw across the sky, shout over the rain that 'IT'S REALLY CLOSE!' as the thunder claps overhead.

I look forward to putting the cotton net up over my bed, and crawling into my own little world at night, just like I did as a child. Then, the summers brought fireflies too. Lying in bed after lights out I would gaze enraptured at these magical little creatures as sleep drooped my eyelids and the fans whirred.
Everything was a possibility.

The heat just seems hotter now than it did then. There's not as much magic hanging in the air.

Que sera, it's not all gloom.
There is champagne, after all.