‘Rain, rain, go to Spain….’

Bridge over the River Touyre
Bridge over the River Touyre

I think we’ve had enough.  When I last posted  – three days ago – we’d already had a week of rain.  It’s barely stopped since.  During the night, we can hear dull thudding as the roof tiles take another sodden pounding.  We get up in the morning, raise the shutters, and immediately the rain batters the windows.  Going for the breakfast loaf, usually a good way to begin the day, seems unattractive.  We make a comforting pan of porridge instead.  And so the day wears on.  We go out when we have to, but there’s no pleasure to be had in scurrying down the street, heads down, coats spattered by any passing car.  And I don’t know when we’ll ever have a country walk again.  The fields are waterlogged, the paths sticky and slippery with thick deep mud.

This was the River Touyre this morning at 9 o’clock.  In summer it’s a mere stream, idly meandering over the pebbles and stones which line its route.  In spring and autumn it’s hardly any deeper, but we’ll spend languid moments watching the trout as they glide serenely in the clear water , constantly on the look out for their next snack.

Today the water was brown, angry, tearing rapidly over the stones which we could hear clattering beneath.  It had risen about three feet, covering the grassy banks and invading the garden of the hens who live opposite.  They cowered  indignantly beside their huts, unwilling to get their feet wet or risk being swept away.

Snow is forecast tomorrow….

17 thoughts on “‘Rain, rain, go to Spain….’”

  1. …….très impressionnant, là on se rend compte de la puissance de l’eau – le Touyre, un tout petit ruisseau en été, il a pris de l’importance le bougre…et aujourd’hui de la neige, l’hiver commence tôt en Ariège – ici c’est toujours couvert, grisaille et éclairs de soleil en alternance – on est bien au chaud et vous deux devant une flambée de cheminée, un livre entre les mains, les pensées, oui les pensées vers où d’ailleurs ???? agréables moments, AnnAxx

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  2. This kind of weather is a challenge from Mother Nature to dig deep and find the pleasure of the day somewhere, somehow. I picture a roaring fire, a comfortable soft chair nearby with a stack of books waiting to be read, and smell the wood smoke. Is it cold enough?

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  3. Don’t worry Margaret! Winter is only beginning! Yesterday and the day before we went to see Roquefort waterfalls more impressive than in Summer! Today snow is making a wonderful landscape! I put on snow tyres on my car to drive safely on snowy roads and tomorrow night we’ll go at 20h30 in Villeneuve d’Olmes to see a slide show about North India and Annapurna (still ice and snow!). Would you come? My little cat refuses to go outside she hates cold, rain or snow!

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    1. Nous aussi, nous étions a Roquefort -les-Cascades hier. Comme c’était impressionnant!. Eh oui, on a mis les pneus de neige déjà, mais malheureusement nous ne pourrons pas venir demain soir. Dommage, parce-que Henri Assagues est bien intéressant. Toi et Simona, vous avez besoin d’un peu d’aide avec l’anglais que vous faites ensemble? Tu as fait beaucoup de progrès avec ton anglais, je trouve

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  4. Oh how miserable! It’s all very well choosing to stay indoors by the fire with a good book but when you’re forced to it’s not such fun. I always remember my mother in law in these situations who would, for some reason, set to cleaning the silver. We’ve had a downturn in temperature and some sleet but not as wet as you. It can’t go on forever…

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    1. I’m not sure. Despite the snow in the mornings, the rain’s still coming out on top. Perhaps I should clean the silver. Mustn’t compain though (we shouldn’t, but we do)

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  5. Reblogged this on From Pyrenees to Pennines and commented:

    I was out walking near Ripon this morning. For once it’s not raining – and it has been, more often than not, for days and days. But the river, viewed on a gusty but mild Autumnal morning, offered proof of all that recent rain. The Ure raged and surged at the bridges. Every bank had been breached, and trees were paddling in several feet of water. Impromptu lakes formed in fields and too-close-for-comfort to urban streets. Riverside paths, usually solid affairs of beaten earth, were slick and slippery with sludge: or worse, deeply hidden under soft ribbons of oozy mud. How very like an English November, I thought.

    But then I remembered a November in France, only two years ago. It made our current Autumn weather look rather OK, especially as it’s unseasonably mild: 16 degrees today. Nobody’s talking about snow …… yet.

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