GENTLE BE THE BREEZE

So far, during this week's punishing heatwave (at least for most of us uninitiated natives of Britain), coinciding with the anniversary of my late father's passing, I couldn't help but appreciate the coolness of the family home he designed and built, its thick Cotswold stone walls and perfectly positioned windows allowing every opportunity whatsoever to welcome the occasional breeze that filters through the treetops surrounding the house like gentle sighs.

One semi-circular window in particular, which sometimes seems like the window equivalent of a secret contraption from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, appears to offer an additional store of cool air to the house. It sits above a work desk, where temporary relief is brought to my sweaty brow like invisible angels dabbing at it with gossamer handkerchiefs.

I must say there is a certain sublime joy and interplay between the living and the dead when the art of design by this unique architect, no longer with us, is able, through his innovations, to provide a tonic to the sweltering heat with the legacy of his craft.

Opening the semi-circular window yesterday and feeling wave upon wave of tree-breezes carry across my face, I might almost have believed he was somehow in sympathy with my heat fatigue.

To add an extra cultural dimension to the occasion, I decided to play Soave Sia Il Vento (“Gentle Be the Breeze”), the trio from Mozart's Così fan tutte, which further cooled me down with its evocation of ocean spray off the Bay of Naples and sea breezes.

Gentle be the breeze,
Calm be the waves,
And every element
Smile in favour
On their wish. ​

There is a quote by John Ruskin that architecture is frozen music. Well, yesterday, here in the heart of Gloucestershire, it may not have been quite frozen, but it was definitely cooler, and for that, I thank you, dear father.

May the breeze be gentle wherever you are.

Love,

Digital Renegade.