We awoke to a misty grey cold morning. The distant fields looked bleak and empty as the clouds trampled one into the other and covered the whole sky with greyness.

The air became still as if holding its breath in expectation of what might happen next. Even the birds were silent. Big, splashy drops of rain fell, followed by a penetrating downpour. Puddles formed and reformed. Thunder and lightning echoed above and around us.

Within half an hour the storm had passed and patches of blue sky appeared amongst the clouds. The wind frisked the clouds in a confusing way, until they sailed through the sky at record speed, all torn to pieces, fragmented.

Later in the evening the sun full of dying flames shone out of the distant dark threatening clouds.

The following morning the air was moist and warm and it was one of those perfect days; when the wind brought awareness of being; when the light highlighted beauty. It was going to be a golden day.