The sun breaks through the clouds, and illuminates the bright golden birch trees.
Still, the impression is diffused. As if the colours are more important than the contours.
Has nature decided that today’s colours are the most important issue?
The blueberry rice is empty, but a few hidden blackberries are full of sweetness and memories of the summer’s bounteous harvest of luscious berries.
This place is fairy land. There is no doubt.
Fairy Dust is essential.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry,
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
by William Shakespeare
