A morning walk in Dorset on the first day of August

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new month.

August is here and the storm clouds are gathering.

Today, so the weather woman says, will be sunny with some showers. Tomorrow will be a downpour. So let’s make hay while the sun shines.

Up on the hill, through the time portal gate, outside sounds are muffled as if I’m in a dream. An energetic hike up to the top and then a quick stroll around before the dog reaches the badger latrine. I know I’m a spoil sport but I don’t want her to roll in it.

Back down through the gate and we meet a young man in shorts, T-shirt and trainers, running up hill. There’s a deer down near the copse, standing still like a statue. The dog doesn’t see her. She’s more interested in the swallows, dipping and diving in the next field.

An Aberdeen Angus, which the farmer says is fourteen years old but looks very strong and virile for his age, keeps one eye on the heifers and the other on the grass.

Down in the valley, they’re dung spreading on the barley fields, which have been denuded of their crop in quite a dramatic way. The maize, however, is taller than an elephant’s eye, let alone a dog’s.

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