My resolves are dissolving. When the sun shines in the morning I spring out of bed and love the day. I feel vibrant and energetic. Nothing seems too much bother when the sun is shining. I never complain about the weather being too hot if I include a caveat of my nations climate running to approx. 32 deg C at its toastiest. Blue skies boost my happiness.
Nearly a month ago it seems the sun went in and the rain began in my little part of the UK. Grey skies evoke grey moods. Resilience reserves dip and life becomes a slog. A grey day is a sludgy day. A treacle syrup of a day. Instead of leaping out of bed in the morning one finds oneself laying under ones duvet staring out of the window at todays deluge for hours while procrastinating the preparation for work and the commute. If there is a break in the weather and outdoor life resumes – perhaps a bbq or reading a novel seated in the garden or visiting the beach – a person is still wont to keep an eye on the clouds as new weather systems move in at pace.
Body language changes in managing wet weather. One becomes hunched over to protect the face from raindrops and as a person hunches, so does their demeanour.
I want the open countenanced, blue sky mornings to return. I want to throw back my shoulders and turn my face to the sun. I want to stride purposefully rather than tip toe and dodge puddles. I want to pause and breathe deeply as I open the door to the outside world. I want to feel warm and unencumbered. I want to feel vibrant and glisteny. I remember feeling that way before and I wasn’t too long ago. It feels like these hopes and wishes are without merit and we might as well skip to winter.