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A walk through the trees and a fabled encounter with an Asian Hornet

It's a beautiful morning as I find my way to the central path up through the maize field.

We've not been up here for weeks, the dog and I, what with cattle, sheep and then, before that, lots of mud.

But today we're up on the highest hill in Dorset and it's only eight o'clock.

It's like a cathedral to nature up here, with the rising sun peeping through the branches to illuminate the trees, elevating them into something even more special than they already are.

We soak up the hazy view from the top before meandering around the summit, taking in the sights, sounds and smells and feel of this lovely rural spot.

There's a rope swing in front of me. It's pretty low on the ground but no-one's looking. So I lift my leg over and swing through the morning. The dog thinks I'm mad.

The sun throws a spotlight on my antics and then it's down the hill again, before anyone spots me. The scornful look on the dog's face is bad enough.

A foxglove gives a last hurr…

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