For myself I like to read the wind in the trees, the currents the seagulls rise on, the pigeons and crows play over. The way the wind makes the grass ache with arches and cucumber umbrella leaves tremble with the storm to come. the wind has come up more briskly and the sky has darkened rapidly with the white whiskers of stratus pushed out the way for black rats of anvil clouds.

Perhaps I’ll continue more later.