Grey Sky Day

P1030238I am sitting inside right now, a light drizzle of rain trickles down the window panes. A song thrush sits on the sycamore tree by the side of the house and I can hear his trilling, whooping, whistling, sing-song changeable voice. It’s a grey day. I sometimes feel comforted by grey days. It’s like being wrapped up in a soothing fluffy quilt or silver cotton candy. Grey days are quieter outside and so quieter inside. The stillness outside tames my mind to stillness within. Though they may incline me to introspection, I like grey drizzle days.

I have been, as usual, trying to work myself out. This constant trying to make myself better, to find clarity, to improve myself, is taking its toll. Why can’t I just accept the strange uncertain wayward person I am? I search for surety almost every minute of the day, it is no wonder the days slip like sand through my fingers. There is nothing certain, it all just trickles through and falls to the ground.

My neighbour’s clematis is blooming. I can see it through the window. Hundreds of pale pink flowers nod gently with the falling raindrops. Of course, they don’t question themselves… they just are. A breeze sweeps past and they nod vigorously, but still they are what they are just the same. They drop a petal or a leaf or two without tears.

It is easy to write when you are solving a problem. You write a list, state your version of the solution and there we go. Yet on this incredible Internet of ours every problem has been solved every solution written and rewritten, and still we are no more certain of ourselves or our lives. Still we search for answers and for certainty where there is none to be found.

Being okay with that is hard. Living with the shifting sands beneath our feet, the variable weather patterns, the falling leaves, and the erratic and inconstant call of the song thrush and being okay with all that is maybe the hardest lesson of all.

16 thoughts on “Grey Sky Day

  1. I miss those bird songs, from thrush and to some extent the blackbirds. When I visit London, the sounds are drunk in like a man in the desert would drink water. For they are evocative, of childhood spent wandering in the fields of north London. Sunday evenings headed to evensong. Later, when older, toward the pub.

    North America has a variety of thrush, with a red chest. Which is why they are called, Robins. Though they are not.

    It is said that dinosaurs are the ancestors of birds? I believe so. Which if logic prevails? Means that the sound of those creatures may not have been the roars that are usually associated with them? But whistles and peeps. Like birds. For lately science is showing that many of them, even the largest predators, were covered in feathers. Which makes a lot of sense. For feathers are nature’s own raincoat. Just the the thing for a tropical climate.

    The one thing I would like to have heard … would have been the dawn chorus. I imagine it would have been spectacular? Cheers Jamie. P.S. Clematis, is a most magnificent plant.

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    1. I’ve seen pictures of the American robins, they are so big compared to our little red-breasted ones. I just can’t think of them as robins… I didn’t know that actually they are not!

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      1. Not only are they larger, but their behaviour is similar to blackbirds also. Hop, hop, hoping across grassy swards. Listening for worms then flying off to share the bounty with nestlings. Nestlings of which they may have two or three clutches a year.

        Southern B.C. also has another close relative for a brief summer visitor. The yellow winged, blackbird. They tend to favour marshy areas with bullrushes for nesting sites. My fave are the bluebirds. Just here for a few days, in May, on their way to the central interior and northern prairies. Their colouration is so vivid. Cheers Jamie.


  2. It is tricky to find that peace with ourselves and perhaps everyone has that ongoing quest for certainty, it ebbs and flows, but maybe it strikes us all at points. And maybe better to live a life noticing the changes, however uncomfortable that may be, than staying static? Thank you for sharing your thoughts and I hope you are ok.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your thoughts Katie, yes I’m ok, just a bit pensive I suppose. I need to get on with something, I’ve spent too long on the Internet no doubt. x


      1. Very true. In the midst of a critical moment, all else fades around us, and we’re feeling like an island surrounded by a vast ocean; adrift at sea. But, one of the important things about blogging is that we’re making connections, and we’re able to get feedback, and remember, we’re not alone.

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      2. I have to say I’m really appreciating the wonderful connections made with people from different places around the world from this strange thing called blogging.

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  3. You said: “This constant trying to make myself better, to find clarity, to improve myself, is taking its toll. Why can’t I just accept the strange uncertain wayward person I am?”

    I believe it is the better side of our human nature that urges us on to become better. Only one constant in life, and that is that we change. Very cool you are committed to good change!

    I think it is the judging ourselves harshly that wears us down and out. I’ve only recently gotten to the point where I am not judging myself incessantly and I tell you I am much better at all the new and interesting ways I am trying to be better at this human thing. What I find interesting in this judging thing is that I have always been so much better about not judging others harshly. But so hard on myself!

    Let’s celebrate the strange wayward person you are and all the ways those traits will blossom and bloom and bring joy to you and all of us who you are sharing your journey with. Rainy days are good for resting, because soon enough the sun returns.

    All my best to you.

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  4. “Why can’t I just accept the strange uncertain wayward person I am?”

    I suffer/celebrate this same conundrum. I made it to old, and find I accept myself much as I am now….most days. I am actually perfectly capable of achieving nothing for several days in a row without guilt or regret. But always there is that now delicious need to continue to do ‘me’ better, brighter, lighter, and wiser. In fact I have actually began to embrace and appreciate this part of me very much.

    Wish I had appreciated both sides of this self a lot sooner. Those past days of having done nothing could have been so much sweeter.

    Here is a vote for your’ being the strange uncertain wayward person you are’. From all that I have read on your beautiful space, and your stunning artwork…you are a beautiful work in progress, and that is alright.

    All my best to you dear Kim.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. A lovely thoughtful comment Johanna, thank you. I hope one day I’ll be able to follow your example and be a little easier on myself. I always appreciate your kind words. Take care xx

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