They’ve lived there for years under these expansive skies and have witnessed the beauty of many a sunset, sunrise and harvest. Now, as they gaze out to the horizon, time is short. Soon they too will be a memory. They once lived there, people will say.
This dead tree always looks like a sentinel standing at the entrance of the barley fields. Whenever I pass it on my way to the woods on the right of this image, the old soldier in me wants to salute it. I love these fields which have produced crops and harvests year after year. They together with the skies of Kent give me a wonderful sense of spaciousness and freedom.
The fields of barley around us are being harvested. I love watching the harvesters. There’s a sanctity to their work. It was fields like these that inspired Sting’s beautiful song, “Fields of Gold.”
Yesterday, I was standing in our backyard watching the sun going down, when suddenly in the stillness, two birds started calling out to each other. The rolls and chirps and melodious song were beautiful. They echoed under the red and expansive sky. Communication was going on, something beyond my comprehension, yet recognisable to a part of me that in itself is a mystery. A thin veil had been lifted and I was staring into a reality, both mystical and ethereal.
We were hiking along the River Darent in Kent, between Horton Kirby and Farningham, when we came across this field beautifully carpeted with Buttercups, Dandelions, Daisies and a few spots of Red Campion. We just had to stop, have lunch and ponder this captivating little scene.
My wish is to stay always like this, living quietly in a corner of nature.