Early on a Sunday morning. Allotment peace.
I can hear a skylark
The purple flowered beans have tiny, curled up baby beans on them. Smaller than my little fingernail.
There is a stiff breeze-( What a weird expression! Where does it come from?) – it rustles the trees and hedges and helps it to feel like seaside weather.
A fox barks in the back field.
Unusual – it seems too early to me for fox noise. My mind associates fox noise with leaving early to go on holiday in late August – harvest time. Bundling sleepy children into the back of the car, still wearing their pyjamas and clutching warm pillows. The smell of ripe corn on the wind.
Inside my shed, the sun is already warm on my arm as it streams in through the open door.
The view across the plots is green and lovely.
Later the church bells will ring.
For now I may just treat myself to an extra Sunday morning cup of tea…