Candle In The Rain
I’ve not been awake long. As I write this introduction, my eyesight still hasn’t fully focussed, culminating in my vision returning unclear views and distant vague shadows.
I’ve either very tired, or I’m wearing Karen’s contact lens again! I best go check as last time I inadvertently wore my spouses sight correction devices I spent the first ten minutes trying to write a blog with the toaster!
Right I’m back and no they weren’t Karen’s contacts they were mine. I’d just put them in the wrong eyes. I can see a great deal clearer now I’ve corrected this error.
My contact lens carelessness did teach me a valuable lesson this morning, though, which is bread inadvertently rammed into the CD slot on a laptop doesn’t toast very well!
Anyway, enough already Gary of your haphazard optical correction anecdotes, I hear you proclaim.
Now that I am able to see with increased sharpness, I’m taking a cursory look through the bay window of the dining area of my humble abode.
This window provides a portal to views of what American’s would call my back yard, Spaniards would label jardin trasero and my incomprehensible father-in-law would describe as the bazak goowdenses.
Recent incessant precipitation has resulted in a very health looking bazak goowdenses. This view is enhanced by the cornucopia of colour which is exhibited with a peacock’s pride. Despite a battering from the elements, the plants and shrubs stand tall as if in a display of military defiance.
The flora and fauna dans le jardin de Strachan strive hard to withstand the meteorological foe that gives it life on one hand through replenishment, but alternativly seeks to damage with its seemingly incessant torrent of water……… That is apart from a bunch of pansy’s who appear to be acquiescing to the elements…… The bunch of pansy’s!!
On my patio table the candles, I inadvertently left outside last week, have acquired miniature pools of water where wax erosion from the previously lit wick has occurred.
A group of ants, clad in bathing suits and flippers, joyfully play in the candle’s rain acquired water. Their own private swimming pool complete with a ‘No heavy petting’ sign.
If truth be told, I think they’ve drowned and aren’t swimming. However, the romantic poet within this simple northern bloke tries to lighten the prose with a fictional, altogether more palatable reason for the ant presence in the water……. Incidentally, if anyone wants to buy nearly new ant bathing suits and flippers give me a shout!
One of the candles, the bringer of light and spiritual signifier of life, is now a makeshift formicidae mortuary. It has manifested into a taciturn oxymoron, its task of aiding sight (unless you’re wearing your wife’s contact lenses) temporarily redundant, whilst it provides a sadder much darker ulterior role.
The torrential rain has now stopped. A look through the window shows a brighter outlook (unless your a drowned ant) and a spiders web top left of one glass pane. I can’t see the spider on the web; I just hope he hasn’t gone for a swim!!
I need to bring this narrative to a close now so that I can give those ants the send off they and their families deserve.
I intend to hold a short family service this afternoon in the garden, during which we will sing the hymn ‘The Lord is My Shepherd’ and I shall also read a passage from palms…….. That isn’t a misprint, I don’t mean psalms I mean palms……. I’ve written the eulogy on my hands!!