Talking of sunlight, the view to the Weaver Hills was in the High Romantic tradition again. There were still some grey shower clouds drifting across them with beams of sunlight breaking through the gaps. In consequence, the hills were ever washed with moving pools of soft sunshine. A classic image, but no Arthurian knights riding down to Camelot.
The hemlock has had a short flowering season this year. If my memory serves me right, hemlock usually blooms all through high summer from June to August. This year it’s gone to seed already, and the verges are full of brown stems topped with dry husks. I wonder whether it bodes something. We shall see.