Rain on the windows, creaking doors,
With blasts that besom the green,
And I am here, and you are there,
And a hundred miles between!
O were it but the weather, Dear,
O were it but the miles
That summed up all our severance,
There might be room for smiles.
But that thwart thing betwixt us twain,
Which nothing cleaves or clears,
Is more than distance, Dear, or rain,
And longer than the years!..Thomas Hardy
There has been “rain on the windows” all week long…freezing rain that saddens the garden and makes the distance between now and next summer seem so long..
Hardy is talking about something more than just rain, but for me the grey skies, dripping branches, sodden leaves sticking to the window pane and unrelenting grey, are enough to make warm weather seem a long, long distance away.
Watercolour on Arches Not Paper