CAR PARK IN THE RAIN
FEBRUARY 27TH:I woke up this morning and looked out the window. It seems to be another day like yesterday. Heavy uniform cloud cover, dull light, a chill wind from the west spitting rain. A magical day.
Call me strange(you won’t be the first 
) but there is something about days like this that feel laden with mystery. Like a nondescript wall on an industrial estate, an empty car park, a crack in a pavement on a suburban road in a tired housing estate, these unremarkable things speak of the whole. They are part of our landscape in the way a pot of red geraniums against a blue wall or a cat sleeping on a white washed pillar are, more so even.
) but there is something about days like this that feel laden with mystery. Like a nondescript wall on an industrial estate, an empty car park, a crack in a pavement on a suburban road in a tired housing estate, these unremarkable things speak of the whole. They are part of our landscape in the way a pot of red geraniums against a blue wall or a cat sleeping on a white washed pillar are, more so even.
WALL
They do not beguile you with their cuteness, they do not grab you’re attention at the expense of all around. The wall, the door handle, the car park, the piece of waste ground, the rubbish caught in the hedge, the dull day, they are just there, deceptively unremarkable, comfortable enough in their being not to slather on the make-up of a blue sky, dress up in pastel shades or stick a flower in their hair.
WALL AND BINS
Today is a good day to be around, like hanging out with an old friend at home, wearing a baggy foodstained jumper and grubby yoga pants with bad hair drinking tea and doing not very much. (Can you see me?). This friend gives you the space to think or talk, a friend who can hang back, allow you to be. It is comfortable to be with someone like that, and safe, in the way today is safe, the diffuse light and low cloud like a blanket wrapped around you.
DOOR HANDLE
Or if you prefer, if the more striking is for you, today is a blank canvas, the down time before the deluge of creativity, the greyness is like a heavy curtain behind which hides a theatre of light and colour and texture. The rain spitting on the ground raises not only a metallic, dusty smell but the promise of new, insistent growth. The gloominess is the darkness before the fantastical dawn, the clouds are not a blanket but a loose t-shirt over the lithe frame of a new friend… 
Full of promise, full of possibility, full of magic, today is a way forward.
Full of promise, full of possibility, full of magic, today is a way forward.
THE WAY AHEAD
PICTURE-A-DAY NOTE I am still doing the picture a day but as I think I may be cluttering up inboxes with daily posts I will post them on the Westown Girl FaceBook page and then here, all together, every Friday. If you like that or not, let me know. Have a nice day
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