A picture to see off summer…. Here’s another one from the 2026 calendar – this is for October, though in truth it’s probably more of a September sort of mood… And if it looks vaguely familiar and you think you’ve read the story before, I first made a digital drawing of this in the autumn of 2023, then went off it a bit and anyway it didn’t fit with the other pictures for last years calendar collection, because by then I’d gone full-circle back to real coloured pencils. So I threw it out of the collection.
But I always liked the idea so I re-created it in proper pencil for this year. The original drawing is here: https://waterdrawn.com/2023/09/21/blue-summers-farewell-wink/ – do tell me what you think and which you prefer. I may or may not agree with you but it’s always interesting to hear what people think.
2026 calendars are here:
Etsy: https://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/4373668662/
Tizzo (UK only): https://www.tizzo.co.uk/product?Product_ID=2106938443
“Blue: Summer’s Farewell Wink” (version 2)
Three cars arrive one… two… three, pulling up in the car park within seconds of each other as if in formation. To be fair it happens with surprising regularity that Hilary and I are both late by precisely the same number of minutes, but that Row, Chris and myself should arrive in formation from quite different directions was impressive.
Fortunately the efficiency goes no further: one can have too much of a good thing. I proceed to re-allocate items between my car boot and my bag, in the drizzle and high wind, to the amusement of Chris and Row. Some minutes later, having deemed the kit in my bag good to go, we go. It will be another hour or so before I, soaking wet, discover that despite this detailed and precise faffing, I still haven’t managed to put an actual towel into the bag.
It’s not fair to say that the weather is unpromising. The weather promises a great deal: thick cloud, high wind and the chance to dodge the occasional downpour. It has less to say on the subject of visibility, and the question of sunlight is a firmly settled ‘no’. And yet, as I swim up Clevedon Marine Lake for a second lap, I have the impression of the sun over my left shoulder, which is odd because that is exactly the opposite direction to where it should be.
I look over my shoulder and there, against all promises of the weather, is a clear bright hole in the clouds and the most perfect patch of blue sky. Summer is winking a last farewell. Minutes later it is gone, but a flash of bright across the channel suggested Summer is doing the rounds and now bidding goodbye to Cardiff.
She’ll be back next year. Maybe she’ll stay a little longer next time*
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*This was a story from 2023: a grim an grey summer. In 2025 she did indeed stay longer.
WaterDrawn 