Tide turn

 

The season is changing into the hot, long, lazy days of July. The hay meadows are being cut to preserve summer for winter livestock. The wheat and barley are slowly turning golden, rustling in the breeze, awaiting harvest. 

Birds are singing less, families raised, perhaps more than one brood. 

The sheep are happily shorn of their heavy fleeces and the lambs no longer gambol, now more sheep than spring lamb. 

Hedges are starting to fill with green autumn fruits and berries and the trees are shedding those first now tired, spring leaves. 

This cycle never stops. You can always find your place by just pausing and looking at the land. She puts a reassuring arm around your shoulder, letting you know you are right, where you are supposed to be.