I made my last nocturnal walk tonight, until the days shorten
again later in the summer. All in all, it was a bit of an anti-climax. Although
the air was warm and sultry, the sky was cloudy so the Lady Venus and Mistress Moon were in
hiding. I expect Venus will have dropped below the western horizon when I
resume. And the Lady B’s household seemed to be in the process of retiring,
since there were only upstairs lights on, and even one of those went off as I
walked past. There was a single star keeping a lonely vigil in the eastern sky,
and – me being me – a line from the most classic of Irish folk songs came to
mind:
He made his way homeward
with one star awake
As the swan in the
evening glides over the lake.
I said my au revoirs to the trees, of course, and I swear
they reciprocated. Call me mad if you like, but they looked closer, more
enveloping. It wasn’t difficult to feel a sense of being in receipt of an
arboreal embrace.
So, tomorrow the raven-haired Mistress of Mill Lane jets off
to foreign climes. It’s just a short holiday to her, but she has no idea what
it means to me and I have no intention of telling her. Fortunately, she’s
unlikely to read this post so it won’t matter. As, indeed, it shouldn’t and doesn’t.
OK, so I am mad. I’ll probably post a few more pictures in a
minute. I’m on the second beer at the moment because I’m thirsty. The scotch
can wait until the thirst has been slaked.
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