Monday, 21 June 2010
A perfect morning for midsummer's day. Dog-of-small-brain and I send up clouds of pollen as we sneeze our way through the wafting, waist-deep grass which lines our favourite walk. Gazing across the feathery field shimmering in the heat, I see the barley is ripening, revelling in the sun. Yet I can remember back to not-so-very-long-ago when this was just an expanse of frozen soil. Even at Easter it was only a mass of fragile green shoots. Now it is really beautiful; its stalks growing taller, its seeds growing fatter, and its colour turning more from green to gold with every day that passes.