#One Week - Winter '14 - Drip Drip

Indoors looking out. Everyday another shower. Every hour a deeper puddle. The rain bounced off the grass, the wind howled down the chimney; dirty pebbles bouncing through the vent in the bedroom wall, charcoal smudges on the carpet. I found myself stuffing cotton wool in my ears before going to sleep; anything to silence the wailing wolves.

'Mummy, can we play in the garden?'
'No.'
'Mummy, can we go to the park?'
'Not today.'

With the outdoors making a nuisance of itself, all noise and clatter, I forgot to have my camera at the ready. I have no pictures of the rains and floods; only a few raindrops here and there, and that's when I remembered. Will it be like this every winter? Wet and windy? Now there's a slight understatement... was a bit more than blowy, a little more than drizzle or down pour. Monsoon teardrops. Roaring tempests. Boiling seas. Breaching waters. Shakespeare would have been so so proud. Squally and riled are my descriptors for winter 2014.

We turned the corner on our way to preschool, and there it was, in our way, a flood across our road; lapping over curb, licking garden walls, rolling down mossy drive ways. We couldn't go over it. We couldn't go under it. We had to go through it. I picked up Little A, I picked up her scooter, and waded through our reflections. A car passed through, the driver's face apologetic, sending cold waves splashing against my ankles; soaking boots, soaking hem. 'Mummy, you'll have to change your trousers.' When I returned for Little A, the water still stood, flat and grey, no sign of relent.

Later that afternoon, we were caught in the body of a long long jam; a tail back that wound its way beyond a round-a-bout behind us, and down a hill in front, rear lights flashing secret code. At the bottom were clusters of bright yellow jackets, and a policeman's poker face, his arms flagging the traffic in the opposite direction, back the way we came. The river had burst. A deep sheet of water blocked the main thoroughfare into town. A large hosepipe was failing. Sandbags were being piled against doors. Frantic. Desperate. Another storm predicted the following day... Winter's ruin.

'Mummy, can we go to soft play?'
'Sorry sweetheart, it's knee deep in river.'

The garden. Well it took a battering. The fence to be exact. Half blown away in October's great storm. The rest torn by February's teeth. It's definitely our fence, Younger Dad checked. Odd having such a transparent view of our neighbour's garden; I'm sure she feels the same. A new boundary is required. Windproof. One with concrete foundation. In preparation, I spent the other weekend digging up all the plants and bulbs, transferring them to another bed; either destroying them or delaying their growth. A necessary evil I guess.


This is the second day of the seasonal linky One Week. From Monday till Wednesday I'll be posting a photograph(s) and a few words that diarises and distills my experience of winter '14. Take a peep at the details here. You can join in for one, two ... or the full three days. And don't forget to add #oneweek on Twitter, and comment on each others posts...

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