The fog rolled in over the rumpled hills and stayed all day, creating a still and eerie, sound deadened quality to the landscape; trees and ghostly sheep disappeared leaving only sketchy outlines of where they once stood; crows fly, silently, invisible; into the murk and gloom. The following day the sun burnt the remains of the fog and the sky became clear and blue once more. I watched as a cow gazed dreamily at her reflection in the pond, whilst her friends lolled about on the hillside; cudding and dreaming. Startled sheep with ears pricked, watched as I strode towards the fence, timid but inquisitive. A few trees hang on to the last of their leaves, and berries shimmer scarlet in the sunlight. I walk until the sun goes down and dusk falls; a robin sings the last song of evening.
the first Lenten rose is blooming
north south east west - home's best