Summer

Summer

The sky was a pale washed blue unlike the Mediterranean azure blue, or the colour of the deep, cobalt blue.
The clouds scudding white and fluffy with grey underbellies – a promise of what is to come?
The wind, breezy, capricious, blowing through the trees, catching the tops and swaying the branches.
The eucalyptus delicate thinly arched branches dancing as if in rhythm, dipping and swaying.

In the old oak the capricious wind plays hide and seek among the knotted old limbs.
Calling, first with a whisper, building to a shout as it finds its way through the majestically swaying boughs.
Now, a seagull soars overhead riding the upper currents of air.
The rushing sound of the trees sounding like a waterfall.

The sun hiding behind his sister clouds.
Waiting to warm the earth with his rays but not too sure if his time is right.
White roses growing up against the old red brick wall nodding graciously to the wind.
Pure and fragrant covering the ugly wall with their blooms.

Shadows are cast on the wall and these are nodding in unison.
Tall purple poppies taking their turn to sway and to dance.
Papery petals like ladies skirts fluttering in the warm caress of the breeze.
Seed heads stiff and regimented standing close to the purple ladies like soldiers with a duty to perform.

Bees busily buzzing from bloom to bloom collecting pollen – enjoying the welcome occasional rays of sunlight
A robin visits, sitting on a branch looking with inquisitive bright eyes, flying down to the newly turned earth, looking for bugs and beetles to feast on.