The vibrancy of colour after the dankness, the smells of laundry gels on people, not just the perfume or aftershave, but the smell of whether clothes were freshly washed or not.
The sounds outside were a din to me. Hearing the sound of my own voice. The touch of the outside air on my skin. The wind through my hair. Feeling the breeze on a summers day. The petals on the ground in the spring. Scrunching through the colourful leaves in the Autumn. After a while even the grey days of the winter, with the mist hanging in the low sky. The clouds. the sunsets. The dawns. The dramatic skies from a blue, blue sky on a sunny day or the red skies in the morning, the orange glow at night to the storm clouds brewing. The whiteness of clouds set against the green, green trees.
One Thundery day last August, walking in a storm. And more recently getting drenched on the walk home from a journey up North. All the feels, the touch, smells sights and sounds we bemoan about, as well as get excited over from being out and about. When you do not see it for a while, it is amazing ...
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