Welcome to an unending ticker-tape of crap too small for my blog Asleep on the Compost Heap or too big for Twitter. While computer games, music, photos, art, and supermarkets all get a look in, this site will focus mostly on food. I hope.
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Divinity must live within herself:
Passions of rain, or moods in falling snow;
Grievings in loneliness, or unsubdued
Elations when the forest blooms; gusty
Emotions on wet roads on autumn nights;
All pleasures and all pains, remembering
The bough of summer and the winter branch.
These are the measure destined for her soul.
Wallace Stevens - from Sunday Morning.
"In from the West a fine smirr
Of rain drifts across the hedge.”
A lovely description of Scottish weather in W.S. Grahams ‘What is the Language Using us For?’
I got his collected poems recently. Allusions to the west of Ireland crop up now and again in his work. It is mentioned a few lines before the line above, giving the word ‘west’ that association.