Ah, the summer sunshine. It makes you feel so different doesn’t it? So much happier, more alive. If only you could capture it and seal it in a bottle, keep it close in a dim cupboard then open the doors when the winter evenings arrive and light up the room with stored sunshine.
Yes, the summer sunshine; have you ever followed the last few rays to find out where it’s going to end up? I have.
This time it ended up dancing past my beer glass to a forgotten corner of the garden. The corner next to the shed, behind the caravan, where the empty pots and planters languish and the tumbled leaves are rarely swept away. The corner where, years ago, I spotted a small, brown, lizard soaking up the summer’s heat before I got too close, sending it scuttling into the hedge.
No lizard this time as I watched the golden light shiver, the soft breeze flicking at the leaves and making their shadows dance, the aluminium facing of the caravan rippling like waves on metallic water. Such a peaceful feeling, this last of the sun – or maybe it was the beer.
When the winter comes this corner will turn dark and damp and I doubt it’ll see much sunshine. The leaves will become sodden, turn to mulch, and the concrete will become blackened with winter mould waiting for the sunshine to return and bleach it clean away again. I won’t go down there to sit and catch the last of the watery winter sunshine; it’ll have no heat in that corner.
If only I could open that cupboard and let some sunshine come tumbling out. Oh well, I’ll have to fill my cupboard with beer instead for consolation. That should help the winter pass.