It’s raining again. It has been for weeks. I feel like I’m in an English movie where it’s always raining and the sky is “zinc gray”. I even started ringing for tea, but no one brings me tea, let alone the other things that go with it. Scones with clotted cream, cucumber toast, little cakes. None of it. Not even a dry biscuit. So I get a glass of white wine. It’s better in the rain anyway. It’s also local, which has become so important. I feel better immediately. Tea would be imported, at least the kind they drink in England. So it’s not really justifiable. Well, I could have had nettle tea. They are from my garden, it couldn’t be more local! But I think I feel better with the white wine. I can tell already. 

The rain takes a break. Now I could go outside quickly. I could put on a pair of fancy wellies like the English vets and go out into the fresh air for “forest bathing” or “shinrin yoku”. That’s what they call it in Japan. There are detailed instructions on the Internet, movies on YouTube, and books. You can even train to teach people how to “forest bathe”. Gone are the days when you could just hang out in the woods for fun! It now requires a lot of awareness and mindfulness, which in turn requires concentration, discipline, and proper breathing technique. Since I don’t have any of that and I don’t have a good pair of wellies, I stay home and drink my wine.

Now some blue spots have appeared in the sky. They give me hope. Maybe it won’t rain tomorrow. Then I could go for a ride. Saddle up my horse Homer and trot through the white and cold countryside. The thought gives me wings. I can already smell the warm scent of horses, hear the crunch of the saddle under my bottom, and feel the light pressure of the soft boots on my slender calves as the wind ruffles individual strands of hair from my knot.

I ring the bell to prepare for my ride tomorrow. The staff needs to know.  Also my glass needs a refill. Outside, crows herald the evening. The staff doesn’t come, I have to fill my glass myself and probably even lay out my riding clothes. But first the evening comes, the sky and the room slowly get dark.