a brief interlude

I could sit here all day. I probably will.

Sat in green. The air is cool. Four vehicles in view: two similar, two practical. The trees are cut purposefully into square arrangements. It is unclear why. Three squares of trees, four if you count that one twice, stand on hills. Their shared diagonal rooves sharing the same degree as the angle they’re growing upon.

There were hedgehogs here last night. Two of them, fattening up quickly before hibernating into the long winter months that lay ahead. 650 grams is the minimum weight required for a hedgehog to survive its seasonal sleep. The little lad finishing off the plates last night knows it and will keep returning until his internal body scales tell him it’s OK. I wish him well.

Back to those hills, rising up like the arched backs of sleeping giants, they surround us. Left, hills. Forward, hills. Right, hills. It is only the gravel track behind us that provides any route out of this deep maze and even that feels like driving through the bottom of a ravine. As a result, the wind barely comes down and it is a magnificent anomaly of nature. There is no wind to be felt, in this hole between hills, and yet the clouds above race by at an incredible speed.

My mind jumps briefly. From here, sat still in green, to there, racing past in white. And I wonder if it feels still up there. If the cloud looks down and marvels at how fast the world is turning below it. I wonder.

The cows are moving. Up high on the hill ahead, a heard of around 40 bovines have erupted into noise. They are being herded, slowly, up and over the crest. Their silhouettes atop the hill would make a beautiful photograph – perhaps I’ll try to draw it later.

The clouds part, hello sunshine.

I could sit here all day.

I probably will.

But first: coffee.

Fresh.