House guest

Meet the latest resident in my house: Makin the penguin. I've always had a soft spot for these often comically cute creatures. Perhaps one day I'll get to go to Antarctica to see the Emperors in their icy home.

Rainshine

... and so the rain continues. Grey skies, a clinging drizzle, a constant drip from a gutter. It can feel like a sort of drudgery. But it looks like the rain is here to stay for a while, so I've made a Pollyanna-like decision to look for the good in the rain. I'll be doing that by posting poems, pictures and bits of music that might offer a glimmer of rainshine.

Here's the first, a poem I've just read for the first time, by Langston Hughes. He's an American poet who was big in the 1920s. This poem, April Rain Song, is direct and can almost be a mantra for these waterlogged days:

April Rain Song

Let the rain kiss you.

Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.

Let the rain sing you a lullaby.

The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.

The rain makes running pools in the gutter.

The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—

And I love the rain.

Langston Hughes