At this time of year, it is not unusual to be greeted into wakefulness by the sound of rain thrashing the windows, but both yesterday and today, by mid-morning, the sun was gleaming in a blue sky mottled with white clouds. A walk in the garden revealed that spiders had been as busy as the raindrops; their ingenious cobwebs, suspended from every bush, were bejewelled with sparkling raindrops that suggested the work of Faberge, rather than a small arachnid. Some were slung like miniature hammocks filled with diamonds, while others stretched like sheets of gossamer between one branch tip and another. By mid-day, the sun, blue sky and dazzling displays had vanished; banished into nothingness when the sun disappeared behind grey clouds that led me to think my afternoon stroll down the lane might have to be postponed.
Strange how optimism that seems to flow, filling every fibre of one’s being when the sun shines, can just as easily take a nose-dive when that same sun disappears behind grey clouds. That’s when not-so-good news by mail, telephone, text, or email can often devastate the one receiving. Somehow, the sad news appears so much worse when the clouds hang overhead. Perhaps that is also why rainbows lift the heart and mind when they appear, like a bridge between earth and heaven; a promise that things will get better.