Thursday, July 19, 2007
The day was full of butterflies. I could hear the gentle thrum of their wings as they searched for sweetness in the flowers. I could feel the push of the air under their wings as it brushed against my whiskers.
The sky carried clouds and I could smell the salt rain as they passed over, high above, to drop their rain somewhere other than here. The sun shone on my fur. It was warm. The fields are patchworked with haymaking. The sky is patchworked with birdsong.
All around the wild hillside is patterned with the deep purple of sweet heather. My shadow follows me.