If the sky is particularly exciting we gallop up to our local playing grounds. It is always worth the huff and the puff - I'll let the images do the talking.
Half way up the lane, the sunlight filtering through the bluebells.
The hills haven't been as brilliantly blue as in previous years, suspect the lack of rain has reduced the flower size and quantity - however they are still so pretty and have such a wonderful scent.
Nearly at the top, the leaves turning gold with the evening light.
The dandelion seed heads lightly nodding in the breeze.
They haven't always been considered as weeds - during the Victorian times they were cultivated and eaten by the wealthy
in salads and sandwiches.
And despite their troublesome nature,
they are very pretty and cheerful, besides the bees love them!
At the top of the lane, just entering the village fields,
just look at that sky - certainly worth the pull up that hill!
The last of the bird evening song filled the air,
the sun sunk behind the horizon.
Making the sky blue and gold.
Behind us, the sky turned a moody dark pink.
Then, as the sky slipped into darker shades,
the birds grew silent and the air turned still,
it felt like the earth held her breath for one moment.
We walked back down the lane,
and companionable silence.
* So - what is the plural of roof? I pronounce it 'rooves', Himself agrees but says it is spelt 'roofs'. I looked it up, 'rooves' is the less common version but still acceptable ... so rooves it is!