The English countryside in June, with yellow ripening barley in gently rolling fields beneath vast expanses of blue sky and scudding white clouds. Birds sing in the hedgerows, in islands of trees among the crops, amongst the undergrowth of weedy wasteland, and on the telegraph wires. Nothing is more glorious or provides greater balm for the soul.
It would be beautiful at any time but I find it even more so in these ones.
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Thank you, Susan.
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