balmy...

Yes, balmy is the best word.

Every so often (don't you just love that indeterminate phrase?) we have a wonderful wind that comes to our village, playing, teasing, uplifting. It is not one of those cheeky winds that picks up leaves and swirls them around, and it doesn't really blow. It caresses, invites, makes you want to run to the top of the ancient steps and raise your arms and go with it.

Tonight it came again. This time it brought a heady mix of perfumes, tantalising. A little wood smoke, a changing variety of blossoms, spring flowers, wafting them around you then stealing them away before you can properly identify them.

The street lights along our road are off. I came down the steps again and looked across the valley. Every light shimmered. The air is so clear. Magic, fairyland.

The night is balmy. I need to go back out again. But first I wanted to capture this one, it is special. Now we need to go back and find out why.

Si, Zacchi, you must learn to love it too...