This morning nature is calm, mature and mellow.
I am sitting in the garden, it is early.
The trees, their canopies heavy with foliage are at their most impressive, not a wind is stirring in their rich green leaves.
There is a different feel to the world right now. The frantic twittering of the young sparrows in the hawthorn tree has eased now that the fledglings are looking for their own food.
Last night, after a really warm day, there was rain and the refreshing scent of earth and herbs is exhilarating.
A light mist hangs over the long valley, the blue sky is nowhere to be seen yet. Cows are lying in the gently sloping fields.
Yesterday I heard the young swifts in the nests under the eaves of our neighbour’s house. The young are being fed by swooping brigades of adults, they are feeding the fledglings’ purposefully so that they will be strong and ready for the long flight to Africa in a few weeks’ time.
Days like this remind me of Constable’s paintings and of Elgar’s music, of the English countryside of years gone by, and of their beautiful cottage gardens.
Many plants are in full bloom, others are busy creating their seeds.
It is mid-summer, nature is coming into its own, rich variety of wild plants and flowers cover the garden around me. I wish that I could stop time right now.
But breakfast has to be made, the day’s work has to start. Thank goodness that there is a moment for everything, for rest and for work, all in its own time.