On Sunday we sang 'For the Beauty of the Earth' to the Rutter tune; it was divine, and not a little self-indulgent.

This morning I was awake at 5 a.m. listening to the torrential rain outside my window (is that stoating?  I can't remember.)  Usually I roll over and go back to sleep but today I got up to watch the break of day - hard to call it sunrise when the sun is so obscured by cloud.  And it was beautiful.

Thick black clouds poured rain onto the quiet earth but away on the horizon was a sliver of faintest blue, a gap in the darkness.  As my eyes acclimatised I began to discern silhouettes of buildings 'across the water' and a single light in one window of the (Children's?) Hospital pierced the gloom.  The blue widened and tiny, faint, fluffy clouds came into view: text book cumulus.  Slowly, the shapes of buildings took on detail and the shades of green on nearby trees came into view.  The dark clouds rolled away and the rain eased.  A train hurtled along the track.  A seagull squawked and flew overhead (sometimes I feel as if I live at the seaside!) and other birds soared skywards.

The world slept on.

And God conducted the symphony of the dawn to an audience of one.

Other old hymns came to mind, each celebrating the wonder and beauty of God's creation.

Every now and then people who have never visited Glasgow baulk at the idea of living in a third floor flat. If they had the views I enjoy, they'd soon change their minds.