Tor Falcon: Diary of a Wild Place

June, A Still Moment Between Rain Storms.

A hot day, heavy rain all morning. A moment of respite. A short, still truce. The air is thick with water. Evaporation is visible, you can feel it’s softness on your skin, it’s warmth in your lungs. It plays with perspective and mutes colours. Shapes blur, insects take to the air and the heavy scent of honeysuckle trickles down your throat.

Then the wind whips the poplars into a roaring frenzy, the sky darkens and it begins to rain again.

November, A Tempest

It hadn’t got light. It had rained all morning and the smell of turps in my studio was giving me a headache. But the rain had stopped and I thought it was safe to take the dogs for a walk. I set off without a coat. I walked along the stream and past the wood where I met Edward on his way home for lunch. We had a chat and it began to rain. I thought about turning back and decided not to be pathetic-it’s only rain. I turned up the track and it began to rain harder….and harder….and the wind began to blow. Shall I go back? No point, I’m already wet. Got to the top of the track and the rain got harder and the wind got stronger and my hat blew off and Slinky couldn’t walk in a straight line and then suddenly my boots were full of water and there was a river of cold water running down my back and a loud rumbling noise. I turned round and everything was black. Sticks and leaves started flying past me. I tucked myself into a hedge with the dogs while this tempest roared past. The world became invisible. Water was all I could see. And then it was over. I did turn back then! And by the time we arrived home the stream was a raging torrent, I was freezing cold and the sun was out.