When I hung out the washing this morning (presently being rained on) I could hear the Town Hall clock chime ten o’clock, the sound travelling across harbour waters struck flat and dumb in the grey light of today’s soft mizzle. Without any consultation whatsoever with weather experts or the sun, a cover of cloud (or sea mist)has formed overhead, refusing to budge and successfully gagging any attempt by the high, noon sun to blaze down on to our clouded-over city.
Call me contrary, but I do love these misty, grey Dunedin days – even in the middle of summer and even if Kapukataumahaka / Mount Cargill becomes collateral damage, taken hostage by fog.
Days like today are like a blank page all ready to write on. As I write this, I can hear the soft breath of fine rain.
Earlier my granddaughter visited and asked to listen to bagpipes on my phone. (Something we’ve done previously and which she loves). Instead of the phone however, I decided to go all yesteryear on her and selected an LP we inherited from Robert’s parent’s collection of records. We listened to the music through Robert’s newly-refurbished, 1970’s HiFi Fidelity stereo and speakers. Score!
Bagpipe music seems appropriate on this misty grey day. I also sense the earlier and more haunting Maori musical instruments as appropriate for today’s silent retreat into misty grey. The rest of you can have your blazing sear of sun. I’m keeping to the quiet joy of this present parade of rain.
11th Letter In 