These moments

It's been a bit sticky. The humidity building up over the week to be relieved by rain, thunder and lightening. The air dropped into a chill. But so has my writing here I suppose. It's sticky, it won't move, then it chills so much it freezes. As I got home last night I checked the weather for Sunday and saw on my mobile screen the glowing sun emoticon all through the day. Tomorrow might just be a good day. Sunday has always been my day to write.

And here I am, the forecast held true. I woke and had breakfast on the terrace watching the cats soak up some morning vitamin D for their furry black coats, and sensing a moment. We're over half way in to September, but summer is still here. I had to walk to the bottom of the garden and get this shot. I love breakfast, especially at weekends when nothing can interrupt it. It kicks-off a good intention to the day, and the sun in the last official weekend of summer was egging me on.

Actions are louder than words; when people ask me - like they have always done through the almost nomadic years I have spent away from my home country - if I'll ever move back. Well, never say never, but this photo would help you answer that more than any of my words. If I showed you a video of the thunder and lightening and the lashing of rain that comes with the recipe, it may confuse. But that's the silver lining.

By Tuesday the rain and another punch of cold air will be coming back with its thunder grumble, but I will try to embrace it, throw on a hoodie and wait it out. Faith and patience is always needed in whatever we do, to grow resilience in waiting for the sun that will eventually come after. Even in the winter, it can be as cold as you like to the point where I even have to wear a puffer jacket and scarf here in coldest months, but when the sun comes out to play, the drear is firmly held at bay and you are emancipated from the chill. But let's stick with the moment; summer ain't over yet.

Today I took the 20-minute drive to the coast to Gavà Mar. The pleasure unfolds before even getting out the car when you find a parking space within minutes compared to the cram of high-summer. Then with every step from the road in to the sand dunes, the sun soaks in and a slight grin etches on your face before you even realise. A soft breeze rises to caress the long grass of the dunes, letting you know it has come to take away any stifle of too much heat. This easy-going walk through grass outcrops and soft sand closes in and cradles me, yet I have had to jump and fall over hurdles and hang in there to get here. It's not just me, if anyone wants to get anywhere in life, this has to be done. Nothing of any value in life is ever really that easy. Before anything we have to learn how to depend on ourselves, then just get ready to jump. 

As I lay my towel down, the beach is starting to fill again after lunch for the lazy siesta in the sand. Enough people to create a vibe but not too many to spoil it. The waves lull in accordance with the siesta mood, a small katamaran oozes past further out in to the sea as a seasonal beacon. At six o'clock, the DJ will drop summer chill-out tunes to go with my beer. Everything is just where it needs to be. I can manage to realise that in moments like these. 

Despite everything in the last 18 months, I can look up and take strength from the sun, and energy from the moon. The best things in life really are free. The Sun starts to set and Mr.Moon appears in brilliant fullness accompanied by his family of stars in a lucid night sky. I know I can lay back on the lawn this evening with a cold one and my cosmic conversations will keep on in to the night, just like for Leon and his owner (read here: Up on the common). This time I will sit with my laptop and write too, I don't want to lose this moment that has built with me all day. Here I am and I am grateful.

You always have to keep on keeping on.