I was woken today by the sound of heavy thunder in the tall hills to my far right and in front of me. There was no lightening and it has now abated but in those hills dark clouds still loom, indeed a fog of rain clouds are now covering those slopes directly in front of me obscuring my view. Behind me, and to my left, in the Taygetos mountains there are also dark rain clouds evident. After day after day of 40 degree heat or worse this is such a break.
We have had a few spots of rain already. It has not deterred the cicada orchestra which is in full song but if the downpour intensifies they may cease. I read on the internet that in ancient Greece they used to eat cicadas. It goes without saying that the Chinese still do. I remember having deep fried locusts at a City party once and they were not bad but I am not sure that this is going to be a staple part of my long term self-sufficiency plan here.
Pro tem the front window is open and I have wedged the back door, the only door, wide open with a fishing rod. I sit in between in shorts only with a cooling breeze passing through. I pray for more rain. Let the heavens open, let me think of Byron and of Zitsa and my friend the baker and his barrister wife. A day of storms, of sitting here in a cooling wind would be a day to get so far ahead on my writing as to allow me a full day in the fields tomorrow.
And my poor olive trees could do with a drink, it must have been hard work for them in the recent heat, I know they would love a drink. I hear sounds on the tin awning I have above the entrance to the hovel...my prayers are being answered.