A storm blew in  yesterday. It was totally unexpected and very welcome. All morning, dark grey clouds trailed across the sky. Occasionally, it sprinkled a little. Then, in the late afternoon, a big mass of clouds moved in. We could see them coming in over the sea and the low-lying areas. Slowly, at first and then faster, until it hit us here, on our little hill-top town. And it rained. And it poured. And it even hailed. Thunder growled and lightning flashed. It was amazing and exhilarating. It washed away all the dust, cobwebs and debris leaving everything fresh, clean and sparkling. Sometimes all it takes is some rain for the world to feel like it has been born anew. My plants loved it and I did too. It would be lovely if we could have a storm like that every other week - but that would be hoping for too much.

This is Humphrey - at least, that's what I've named him. My husband painted him on a whim because, well, I love rabbits, and I think they are absolutely  cuddly and adorable. But first, a bit of  back story.

When I was still living at my parents' house I had  a series of dwarf rabbits. I say series because, unfortunately, they do not live for very long and some of them had some rather unfortunate accidents that shortened their life-span even more - but I won't talk about that. I still remember their names: Pippino, Rosie, Pixie, Spinner and a few others. The last one I had was called Billy and I remember seeing his chubby face looking at us from the garden the morning I left the house to get married.

The light lingers in the sky these days and the sunsets are so beautiful that they take my breath away. There's a stillness in the world at this time. A silence that is only broken by the cries of a few seagulls that float our way, riding the thermals effortlessly. The old fishermen used to say that seagulls fly inland when bad weather is approaching. These days, they seem to fly inland all the time, whenever the fancy takes them. I love to watch them, high up in the sky, so at peace, so far away from human turmoil. I  often wonder what they see, whether they even notice us. Or whether they're looking out for a tasty lizard or gecko to eat. I relish these moments of peace before the blue turns to indigo, the seagulls disappear and the bats come out of their hideouts.