As I write, clouds are hanging dark and menacingly up above. And not only overhead – they seem to be covering miles around. Below them, and just above the horizon, thinking about it, the darkness is contrasted by the brightest of white, which tells me that the day’s sunlight is still hanging on, and shining brightly on the out-lying areas to my immediate world.
The air is still, the atmosphere clammy. Mixed in with the stillness is the scent of rain. Fresh rain, although it is still dry here for now.
Somebody once told me that nature braces itself for a storm. The grass holds itself perfectly upwards, ready to draw down any stray raindrop that happens to land upon it. The young leaves on the trees unfurl themselves, opening themselves, welcoming and anticipating the refreshing downpour.
Birds, insects and animals head for shelter, hiding themselves away goodness knows where, anticipating the storm in a different way.
And people? We always get taken by surprise. Even if we’ve seen the forecast.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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