Rain Stopped Play

Tell me, where has summer gone? Was it ever here? Was it that hot weekend we had in May? Who knows? The garden is wet, soggy and looks completely abandoned. The lawns desperately need cutting. We have mushrooms and toadstools growing in amongst the clover and the rose petals are blowing in all directions. Damp looking birds huddle on roof tops and shelter under branches, all the sounds and vibrancy of a typical summer garden have gone.

The poppies are here today and gone tomorrow dashed by the wind and rain their short flowering time cut even shorter by the inclement weather.

There is a small hint of better days to come; the sweet peas are growing strong and have been taken out of the green house now but will they ever flower if they don't get any sunshine?

Who knows? I drift in some sort of limbo between work and home gazing out of the windows onto a dreary, cold looking canal, unusually devoid of leisure boats, at work and onto the sodden garden at home, without any energy or inspiration to do anything.

I feel like one of Chekhov's three sisters, sitting and longing, not to go back to Moscow but to experience the warmth and delight of summer, just for a few days, please?