Friday, 4 July 2008

Quessoy arboretum, afternoon.

July is an inert and characterless month, I reflect, then start enjoying the baked gold of the grasses, speckled and bejewelled with purple and yellow flowers and brown seed heads.


Bee said...

It sounds like you've been dry and sunbaked there.

The wind is howling outside right now -- feels more like autumn than high summer.

Lucy said...

That's set in here now too.