Saturday, July 28, 2007
Haymaking while the sun shines.
On top of the hill the farmer had tidied his field, folding all the long and golden grass into neat bales.
The field smelt of all the mice who had lived there and had lost their homes. We will have good hunting tonight.
But for today we play. And Pixie is almost squashed, hiding from the sun under a huge bale in the shadow.