In April there are no leaves to filter the light, there are no midges and the birds sing late. Rain came to sweeten the grass and tremble the pond, and it left an evening freshness of water gold to wash the sky. We had a sense there was wind up there but the valley was quiet.


moonIt was supposed to be a good night for seeing asteroids, so after the wine and the dusk we walked out to the field with the moon. Fresh from the fridge it brushed the valley, and the larches wrote their calligraphy across it’s shine.


The clouds had come though, trailing milky under the stars so if there were asteroids we didn’t see them. But there were sheep bleating up in the fields to the north and tawny owls in the trees to the south, a kwek kwek answered by an urgent and quavering hoot.