The wild honesty is going to seed and the rose bay willow herb is losing its spikes of cerise flowers, like a sparkler in reverse. The clouds lie in still layers as the sun goes down, illuminating the witch on a broomstick weather vane on the house down the path.
It is the middle of July in The Enchanted Village but it feels much later. The children have almost broken up but it could be the end of August. The parched fields are damp with much-needed rain and in the mornings the mist hangs over Bluebell Hill like a shroud.
But hark, what sounds are coming from the village square? A rustle and tinkle, the clash of sticks and a jolly accordion under a colourful umbrella. The Wessex Morris Men are on tour. But there is cacophony in the wings. Never mind morris dancing waking the earth and bringing forth new life. The noise is enough to wake the dead.
The big bells resume. Harmony is restored.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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