Beautiful. And a description of my absence (lately) as well, though for me it is planes and planes and the unintelligible drone of a robotic voice reminding us there are potential bombers all around…
Beautiful words and beautiful photo, Jane. I love species-rich grassland. Your reference to dust stirred a strange realisation. Coming from damp Northern Ireland, dust is something I find quite exotic when I travel (or indeed since having moved to London).
Thank you! I’ve had a thing about dust since I was small. I hated the main roads the traffic and the fumes, and I imagined the dust full of toxic waste. That was in Yorkshire so there maybe wasn’t much dust at all!
Thanks Stefan! You should have seen me when I slalomed down the slippery gloss-painted steps from the second to the first floor in stockinged feet. Cool it was not!
Beautiful. And a description of my absence (lately) as well, though for me it is planes and planes and the unintelligible drone of a robotic voice reminding us there are potential bombers all around…
Makes you want to never leave home, doesn’t it?
Beautiful words and beautiful photo, Jane. I love species-rich grassland. Your reference to dust stirred a strange realisation. Coming from damp Northern Ireland, dust is something I find quite exotic when I travel (or indeed since having moved to London).
Thank you! I’ve had a thing about dust since I was small. I hated the main roads the traffic and the fumes, and I imagined the dust full of toxic waste. That was in Yorkshire so there maybe wasn’t much dust at all!
How beautiful! I saw it all, heard it all, through your words.
It’s a lovely little corner of the country and I hate being away from it.
Beautiful work as always, Jane! I think you make a pretty cool grandma.
Thanks Stefan! You should have seen me when I slalomed down the slippery gloss-painted steps from the second to the first floor in stockinged feet. Cool it was not!