mists and mellow fruitfulness

These have been the mornings: misty, dew dropped, the fresh ploughed earth like slabs of chocolate. Later the sun is warm on my back and the sky the clearest, deepest, farthest blue. The air is warm with a cool edge, faintly smelling of plums and fallen apples and in the night the stars hang low and bright. The trees are keeping their green and flowers think it is still July. Today I walked my favourite valley and ridge and revelled in the last days - is it the last this time - of our Indian summer. Scout kept me company and reminded me of what it is to be a young pup, no longer startled by the clocking of pheasants and the mewling of buzzards, he enjoyed foxy smells and the occasional rabbit bone.Soon it will be time to change my header, but for now, the rainbow over the beach, for just a little longer...