Snail shell home by night...

A stormy night. Walking home from the Seminar, the home of the Yippies, I crossed two fields and passed a forest edge, walked up a driveway and all this way was windswept by the cold but not icey storm of a spring night that is currently still blowing around the house and making noises wherever it touches things, trees, houses, rocks or just itself in other gusts of wind.

I always felt that Spring storms are good. They bring new air, they lick away the leftovers of the winter's snow, they let it rain and blow it dry again. They sweep the skye clean of all clouds so that I can see the stars. And how many there are tonight.
It strikes me, that this season, when nights are still dark and days are newly warmed by the time gaining sun, is made for stargazing. The skye is perfect. Dark black with a shade of blue (besides the edges of lightpollution along parts of the horizon...). And the moon in a clear crescent, tonight even with a sharp contour around the dark round so that it is visible in its wholeness somehow. And while I find my way in the dark without hesitation, as the moon lights my path and does so efficiently, the expression "moonshadow" comes to mind. I have one in the very same moment. It is following me alongside my rubberboots on the ground where the moon is reflected in old puddles and other faint shadows appear, of trees and fence poles.



The storm brings beauty and interesting moments, such as today, when the sky was brilliantly blue and yet it was raining from somewhere faraway, carried for miles to rain on me. Or the storm can fell trees, as I saw one falling on the way in the car with a friend to the station, where for a while no trains were going. Maybe also due to the storm? I would not like to trade this day for a day without wind, for had the trains been going the conversation would have never been as good as it was while the car got stuck in a traffic jam. Wonderful winds! Windful wonders.

Now a moment of stillness. The wind decided to take a breake, I can hear myself breathing. The cat moves to cuddle up the other way 'round and I know that my flatmade and friend Rose is already cosily sleeping in the other room. The fire died down in the fireplace, my time is up for today, my bed is calling for a good night. I imagine this home to be like a snailshell, I can withdraw all the way to the very inside and if you put your ear to the shell and listen carefully, I am almost certain you will hear the wind.