We walked out - in a short spell of reasonable calm. Where we had to lean into the wind while she flew around trying to rip off our hats.
We listened to the thunderous voices of the river crashing down the boulders.
We walked over the metal bridge which had only an hour or so before, been under water. Usually it is two metres above a benign muddy stream but on Sunday it was a riotous angry river.
Fields, usually reserved for football and village shows were deep enough under water for a Part-Otter-Part-Dog-Full-Idiot to swim and to splash. She was in her element. I, buffeted almost into submission, cowered against the sports pavilion as she and Himself threw caution (and sticks) to the wind and defiantly played on.
It struck me that the wind herself has no sound or visible action, however the trees hear her and give her voice, screaming or howling and dancing at her beck and call. Then, when Storm Ciara briefly paused for breath, the trees would rest, limbs lowering and twigs trembling ready for the next barrage.
Surprisingly few trees succumbed to the force however flooding was more in evidence.
Later, much later, we returned Youngest to Uni from his weekend of RnR with us (read that as Restocking and Resting and washing and being fed and sleeping and sleeping and sleeping).Something made me take my camera - glad I did, the lights at the Uni glowed through the final dregs of Storm Ciara. Almost defiantly.
Here is to a calmer Monday xxxxxx
PS ... there are now 'ninja hail showers'* completely obscuring the view and making rooves and roads crusty and white.
* I will forever think of short sharp showers as 'ninja' showers thanks to justjill of Land of the Big Sky