The grass is greener

I finished a post. Now I'm looking out the window.  The wind is loud.   Nicely greening Cedar branches  are tossing about  while rain gusts past  and through them in sheets. The sky is a uniform grey and bare branches  twitch  and tremble.

It's warm in the house , light  shines from a lamp at my elbow.  The iPad screen that puts me in touch with whoever is reading is bright and clear,

A vase of tall flowers  stands on the table across from me. A gift . A tall pink orchid  in a pot. A personal indulgence of  blossom  that lasts for weeks and cheap at the price  for the  amount of pleasure it provides.

Outside is familiar and  full of lifelong memories. The kind of day  my unemployed father might come to school with raincoats and bring my sister Kathleen and myself home on his bicycle. I would be on the bar in front .  Kathleen would ride on the carrier behind , holding on to the saddle seat with her fingers.

The ride  was fast doon the brae from the moor where the school was . Past the slaughter  house  at the river's edge, Across the footbridge , along Waterside and round the corner to a  short quiet street with high walls on either side , past Meadow Farm that had a roses clambering over arched trellises in garden at the front of  the house and sometimes the chickens had wandered out on to the street.

Later in life, a day like this would mean wet feet and stockings , hands thrust into coat pockets , battling  against the  wind on the walk to the bus stop.  Umbrellas  are useless in  a strong wind.

The  cold bus  with vinyl seats, full of wet wool  smell  travelled through streets lined with miles of dismal rows of council houses  or a village , Springside,Dreghorn, or Crosshouse, with miners' rpws  of cottages on either side

 Stopping here and there to pick up a solitary figure cowering in the wind and rain waiting , or a crowd  pushing and shoving to get on the bus first  and get a seat out of the cold and wet.

If I go out today, it will be a few steps to my car in the driveway.

And Oh My Lord, never a day passes that I do not appreciate the difference.