Summer I think. A hard season to call with the signs of spring still emerging, slightly late. Although it is a month since the moment I always call the "million shades of green", foxgloves are still only just opening, the elder began to bloom just last week. Never-the-less, it is June and the forest has the crop of early foals gambolling already.
I left the house, which was mostly relaxed, ten minutes earlier than has been my recent habit. Back roads were quiet; crossing routes were so empty that I stopped to watch them almost hoping for other traffic to corroborate my existence. The Plain was full of beasts, some with young. A gathering of ponies pulled in excited animals, some tossing their manes, some trotting and leaping haphazardly on the road. I wondered if they were getting ready to greet a new-born or whether there was a fight; they milled amongst the still-standing gorse between open lawns that have been mown or burnt to increase pasture.
On Monday and Tuesday the weather howled in passing, pouring water that briefly sat in corners until the greatful ground sucked it in. The spring, as well as cooler than normal has also marked long dry spells, but it has been wetter for a couple of weeks. The water has been washing dust out of the air and sprinkling it onto windows.
Today's sky hangs restful. A thin sheet of cloud appears to be trying to spread from one horizon to the other, but there is enough energy in the atmosphere already to roll it into scattered crumb with sporadic doughy fluff.
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