‘Some people feel the rain - Others just get wet. (Bob Marley) ☔️

I love walking in the rain, feeling of newness, being washed clean. I love the criss/cross streams on the road, little rivulets going about their business. No wonder the Indians call rain ‘Liquid Sunshine’

I keep it to myself, my love affair with rain, and with very good reason. It rains a lot in this place and  conditions are oftentimes nigh impossible for the poor farmer. It can be burdensome too for folk who desperately need light and heat to keep their mood upbeat and positive. Then there are those who love to gripe and so the persistent rain is a useful tool to keep themselves miserable.

Growing up in the country, I whiled many wonderful hours away with my beautiful Dad. After God and before my boys, he was my most favourite person and best influence for good in my life. Dad was a simple fisherman/farmer - simple in the most wonderful way. He loved the sea - ‘One must always respect the sea’, he would say. 

He loved interesting conversations where he gleaned wisdom from someone older and wiser than himself and he loved to pass it on to us, his children. He loved nature and I fondly remember walking in the rain by his side. With Dad the mundane was always magical. ‘Never be without your Holy Bible, Atlas and Dictionary’, he would tell us and to this day my ancient atlas is on my bookcase. My Holy Bible is my treasure. My dictionary is never too far away. 

I remember clearly, Dad gutting mackerel and pollack, lots of them, at our humble kitchen table, late into the night and suddenly shouting with glee - ‘The one I’ve been waiting for’. Us children, filled with curiosity, shouted ‘Why that one, Dad’ and his reply: ‘The last one’, relieved in his terrible tiredness.

Then one day, I learned that I had won a scholarship to a Boarding School in another county. My Dad dearly valued education and wished, with all his beautiful heart, for us, his children, to enjoy what he never had. I understood that very well but the thought of leaving home filled me with a deep painful loneliness. ‘Will you go Bridge’, he asked. ‘I would miss you too much Dad’, I replied. I didn’t go, I attended Secondary School in our local town instead.

My Dad lived five years more, the length of time I would have been in Boarding school. Without a shadow of a doubt I made the right decision and I am so grateful to him for accepting it. I learned more about life just by being near my wonderful Dad than I could ever have learned from the most eminent mentor. Dad had a degree in simplicity, kindness and wonder, he possessed humility and nobility. 

Nowadays, as I spend valuable time with my beautiful folk in St. Anne’s Nursing Home, I am super grateful to God for my life, surrounded and loved by folk who don’t just talk the talk - they walked the walk every step.

Today is your forty fifth Anniversary, dear Dad. You didn’t die, you never will. You live forever in my heart and with God in Heaven.

‘He taught me the things that every child should know, things about gardens - how to plant and sow.

 A love of walking, striding stick in hand, down the green ways of Nature’s Wonderland’.

 (To my Father - Patience Strong)

He had no great possessions. With wealth he was not blessed. No riches for his children, but this was his bequest: he left them all the glories of dawn and sunset skies, the woods, the brooks, the meadows, birds, bees and butterflies. The salt wind on the marshes, the blossom on the tree, the flowers, the fruit, the sunshine. This was his legacy’. (Patience Strong)