'...The cyclone had set the house down very gently--for a cyclone--in the midst of a country of marvelous beauty. There were lovely patches of greensward all about, with stately trees bearing rich and luscious fruits. Banks of gorgeous flowers were on every hand, and birds with rare and brilliant plumage sang and fluttered in the trees and bushes. A little way off was a small brook, rushing and sparkling along between green banks, and murmuring in a voice very grateful to a little girl who had lived so long on the dry, gray prairies...' (L. Frank Baum, 1900)

Ok so there was no cyclone and I didn't find myself in the midst of a country of marvellous beauty. No moreso than usual anyway. Nature had been trying all day to show me the colours in the world and until that moment I had declined to notice. A clear, sharp rainbow stood proudly over the motorway this morning and I saw fit to simply complain about the falling rain. But this evening, cycling back along the seafront and watching the late summer sun begin to set over the sea, it made me take a moment in the calm silence of the evening to think.

Things could be worse.