Roads to Joy

You wouldn’t know it from the concrete blocks of the patio, but the glass-topped table has a telltale reveal: rain fell last night.

It does feel, as Portia opined in her famous ‘Quality of Mercy’ speech, as if the mercy that gives us a respite from this prolonged dry spell has come upon us unstrained, gentle and soft, like a thief in the night. In this case, more a kind of Robin Hood, giving rather than taking.

So the morning has dawned cooler, nearly raising goose bumps on bare arms, and the energising feeling is a delight. As we awaken, ready to embark on this new day, the whole weekend seems to stretch ahead of us. We thought we might seek out a day-trip sort of adventure. There’s a lot yet to explore in this section of Scotland, so perhaps we’ll get out and about.

Re-invigorated from the torpor of the heat (though frankly, this sort of persistent heat wave is relatively unknown in these parts, and it’s not been quite so onerous as we might remark in casual chat), we might well feel motivated to sally forth.

As I sit and ponder the pattern of rain pooled on the glass top, however, the reflections of the neighbouring trees making an intriguing Rorschach image, I’m happy to wake up slowly, in contemplative mood.

Time ahead for the foray. What a joy it is to sit in the cool and muse on life, as the coffee percolates into the second brew of this gentle morning.