It starts to get to me after a while, the greyness. Summer, says the calendar, but the Irish weather often seems to indicate no particular season – not hot or cold, just chilly; often drizzly and sometimes the clichéd “sunny spells and scattered showers”; no extremes of 40 below or 40 above; no rip-roaring thunderstorms or tornado warnings. That I could handle. What does my head in (to borrow a very Irish phrase) is the seemingly endless overcast, cool, windy dampness. I long for a little meteorological drama (thankful as I am that we rarely get any destructive weather). And at this point – three weeks into the current un-summery spell – I think most of us long for a guaranteed few hours of sun and heat. I would love to soak a bit of warmth into my bones, and maybe get a few loads of laundry dry. By dinnertime each dull day, I find myself wondering what I’ve done. How could anyone choose to forsake their bright prairie homeland and move to Ireland despite its reputation for rain? Oh, right, I remember – love is more important than weather. Still, there must be limits…!

And then the evening comes. Slowly, oh so gradually, the wind eases; the grey ceiling begins to break up into batches of clouds with discernible shapes. The descending sun bursts through and lights up that endless green – there must be at least a thousand shades – with the golden glow of sunset. Blue sky – yes, it really does exist – deepens into dusky purple in the twilight, and the clouds reflect the sunset’s vibrance. No gusty breeze disturbs my thoughts; all is calm, still, serene. The city traffic is finished for the day and I am left with blackbird calls, pigeon murmurs, and, if I stay out late enough, the fluttering of bats. With the wind gone, scents of this month’s growth settle around me – the last of the linden blossoms, a variety of rose that looks like a giant version of the wild roses back home, heavily sweet honeysuckle. Stars begin to appear; the same moon rises over me here as it always did there. Peace descends, and I am reconciled to my adopted home. And if the greyness returns tomorrow, I will smile and wait for evening.