After weeks of storm warnings that came to nothing, a good old-fashioned thunderstorm arrives. Gentle at first, the thunder builds to a loud grumble that doesn't stop. It booms and bangs, cracks and rumbles. Rain pours, rattling against the windows, stotting off the pavements. The road is replaced by a river, drops of water bouncing off its surface like miniature silver spinning tops. Lightning comes in constant flashes. There is no gap between lightning and thunder that might hint at how long the storm will last. Everything is happening at once. Until suddenly it ends. I take Winston for his walk in a dripping world, but as we return, the rain is starting again and the sky moans once more.
A couple of days later, the storm is long gone, though the wind blows and the sky still stirs with moody clouds. The rain is distant, visible in dark stripes out at sea beyond the wind turbines. There is a clarity in the light that brings out the colours. The sea is blue and green and grey. The sky is a thick stripe of blue topped by blue grey swirls of clouds. It feels like there could be a storm, but it stays out at sea.
In the car park, starlings gather. The adults look at their best, with glossy, multi-coloured feathers and bright points of white. They look for titbits, swarming around cars, hopping onto the grass, or finding a random spot from which to observe us. The clifftops are crisp and straw-coloured, dried grasses woven with brighter patches of ragwort and lady's bedstraw. Willowherb, cornflowers and knapweed offer accents of purple.
A reef stretches out from the headland, like a zig zag path to a red ship out at sea. The ship is bathed by the sun, as though surrounded by a circle of warm light. Then, the sunlight disappears and it is lost in streaks of rain on the horizon. It is low tide. Scores of seaweed-clad rocks are unveiled. A line of people walk across the causeway to the lighthouse. Children shout and run on the small beach. We walk down to the sand but it's too hot for Winston to run around. Instead, we sit on one of the memorial benches that snake along the cliff top. Two starlings instantly appear. My wife gives them snacks, while Winston has a few treats of his own.
July has brought extreme heat and wildfires in Europe and elsewhere. It may prove to be the hottest on record. These extreme summers are already becoming the norm. But the jet stream has been keeping that unbearable heat away from us. Our July has been one of our wettest and I'm grateful for that. The month ends with a glowering sky, a day of rain and the promise of more to come.
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