You are on your knees in a lavender patch, following the music of bees. In the distance a harvester is droning, and the evening sun highlights wings and petals. You are obsessing about the need for a soft bed and a warm hearth as the autumn sets in; for a safe place to pause, for a warm . . .
Small flocks of warblers have invaded the herb garden and I've taken a big shine to them. I think this one is a Chiff-chaff but as ever I am open to correction by my twitcher friends. This summer there are fewer butterflies and insects but a lot more warblers. My sister was visiting from Sweden and we both remarked on the eery silence and lack . . .
We are busy; the bees, the hoverflies and us. We are buzzing, and flitting and re-focussing our intentions. We are working all hours to keep body and . . .
So the rain continued to bucket down all through July and alongside the accompanying sea mist, a kind of fog settled on my brain. The days melt into one and soon . . .