27°C, milky start.
I feel loss- the dog’s favourite field hat been cut. The grasses have turned to seed and well. But those spectacular thistles are wiped out too, just as they reached flowering. Shame, because I enjoyed their magnificent growth this year. Yesterday, they were taller than me. Now, all gone. I feel the loss.
Maybe sentimental I know, maybe they had to be cut to reduce the fire risk. It’s all dry and yellow here in this heat-wave.