In the grey

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It started with a fog that lingered, it did not burn off in the sunlight, in fact it got denser. The winds had dropped so there was nothing to blow it away. Looking out the window you could see drops of water clinging to the trees and bushes.

The weather forecasters tried to explain the phenomenon. More water in the atmosphere, a storm must come soon to clear the air, but that was months ago. Plants were not doing well for lack of sunlight and because there had been no rain to help the buds burst. Slimy mould was starting to cover some plants and others had a black fungus growing on them.

Then the reports of food shortages started  Crops had failed. Fruit was not swelling and growing but remained stunted.

People started to call it “the grey”, cars were banned as they were turning the fog to a thick smog. Satellite images showed the only parts of the world that had been left clear of the fog and mist were the larger seas and oceans. The grey clung to the edges of the land. Continents were visible only as cloudscapes.

Then the riots started…….

Look again

When you visit somewhere it’s always interesting to look at odd little views, like the cupola seen through a broken window of a derelict green house, or mirrors placed under helibores so you can see their open flowers that usually hang down and hide their beauty. Smoke coming out if the little gift shop chimney (the shop had a warm wood fire burning in the hearth) a picture of a small pool. The fountain was not running. A sculpture of a jumping fish, a grey handle on a grey background. Light through the clouds and a curved turf covered roof to some sort of culvert.

Why not look at those odd sights and take a picture, they may not make a perdect composition but they may spark some thought.

Grey sunset

We live on the wrong side of the hill to see sunsets, so it’s only when I see a glimpse of red or pink reflecting off the clouds that I know something is happening.

Today I was coming home from the shops and I saw a gap in the clouds and a tiny patch of blue. There was also a glimmer of rouge painting a fiery base to the clouds.

I quickly drove over the hill and tried to find a spot where the view wasn’t hidden by trees or houses.

He view was a grey one, with a tiny glimmer of red fighting the street lights on the horizon. The trees and iron fence made strong silhouettes against it. I wish I could have been there 10 minutes earlier. It may have been glorious, but I missed it.

One day I might live in a sunset facing house. Now I just look out for pink clouds and dash up over the hill.

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