Outside the house of the suspected doggers, there is a discarded rubber glove and bits of of old tissue. Just down the road, the bronze nymph statue glints in the morning sun.
Next door at Mr and Mrs Champagne-Charlie's, the house martins are in and out, in and out, feeding their squealing young. Up in the the field, curious young heifers and steers creep up behind dog walkers and shout: 'Moo!'
All through the night, the tractors and trailers have been hard at work, trundling through the village with heavy loads of silage. They have been harvesting like ants, bringing in the silage before the rains come. A faint hum on the hillside - both in noise and smell - and lights like alien spaceships landing on Bluebell Hill.
The maize begins to shoot on its long journey to becoming higher than an elephant's eye.
Oh what a beautiful morning.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
It's blowing a hooley out there. The wind is lashing against the windows and the dogs are play fighting in front of the Aga before...
Over the past few years, I've avoided talking about Brexit, either online or in person. The referendum nearly three years ago ended up...
Back in Corfu and we've just learned that the village where we lived for a year is set to become another film location for The Durrell...