Hail like footballs

8th February 2019

The pellets of icy rain fell hard and fast. She abandoned the grapes and headed for the chickens with great speed shouting to Andrei in Romanian.

The chickens might die from the hail” he translated, eyes squinting as he pivoted to face me looking drenched.

Trawling our way through the wall of rain we helped her chase the hysterical chickens into a wooden coop. Hunched over with hands above out heads for helmets ,we darted back inside for safety as the sharp stones hit the roof like ammunition.

Apparently most of the cars had become dented and windscreens had been smashed last week when the hail hit. It was astonishing that the sun had been glaring only moments earlier and now we were taking cover for fear of injury.

I don’t remember  how we met her. I assume we were passing by and yelped a friendly “Hello!?”over the fence. I do recall us being welcomed in unannounced and offered fruit and tea. I wish I had written more down at the time as now when I look at this image I’m filled with so many questions.