As I walked out one mid-spring afternoon

Up in the churchyard, the sheep are safely grazing.
We walk up the lane and the dog disappears after a pheasant. I'm left whistling, embarrassed, and she comes back ten minutes later.

Along a bridleway, dog now on her lead, we're splashing through puddles before crossing the main road and into a meadow. How I love these rolling, Dorset hills and sky blue skies.
Through the farmyard, corrugated iron everywhere, rusting roofs caved in.
Nettles grow up through the wheel arches of an old tractor. It looks like something from Eastern Europe.
 
The farmhouse is falling into disrepair before my eyes. Oh, how an escapee to the country would love to get their hands on this. Stone mullion windows and mellow sandstone. A match made in Dorset.
From a gap in the gateway along the old track, the fields stretch out like squares on a patchwork quilt, richly embroidered in shades of green, yellow and brown.

In the distance, the sun throws its light on the rooftops of Bridport, which sparkles like the Emerald City. The sea shimmers beyond.
The dog disappears again. She's off chasing squirrels. She runs back down the track, panting. I put her on her lead as we walk through the forest.

Out into the open again, the farmers are hard at work in the field; two brothers doing a double act as they anticipate each other's movements. And the machine gobbles up the grass and spews it out into the trailer alongside.
 Another tractor and trailer comes to join them. And then the dog and I head for home.
That's about it.

Love Maddie x

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