Soft Sizzling Rain
Saturday, 16th November 2002, West Yorkshire
On a dim, wet afternoon the canal-side hawthorns, devoid of leaves but
still covered in berries, are like a bank of crimson-black smoke.
The pattering of soft rain on the dark water is barely audible but when
I turn towards the pylon wires that cross the canal there's a sizzling,
like sausages frying in the distance.
There's a group of scale-topped mushrooms growing from the grass at the
foot of the hedge.
A wren that has been investigating the canal bank below us zooms off across
the canal like a little Exocet missile. Two cormorant fly, one after the
other, at pylon height downstream above the Calder.
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