A Childhood Summer (Beyond the Rainbow)

haystack 2Somewhere deep in a meadow,
way back in time,
there’s a land I call summer,
safe in a childhood rhyme.

Somewhere deep in my mem’ry,
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that I dared to dream
Really did seem true.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up on a haystack far
Behind me.
I’ll gaze up at the sky above
and know my time is bound in love –
That’s where you’ll find me.

Somewhere over the distant hill
I lie
E-ver safe in a summer’s love
In a time gone by.

Sitting on the fence

The garden is swimming with insects. In the evening a cloud of tiny midges shimmers in a cloud, back-lit by the late sun and then the Blanford Fly is out and about, nipping ankles at dusk. Once the lights have come on in the house the May bugs start battering the windows and moths seek warmth.

The local felines are edging around one another. Pippi was terribly offended when a rather high-maintenance fluff-ball entered our house without an invite earlier on today. Fluff ball was soon shooed away. The night before we had heard fighting, but Pippi came home injury free, so we assume she either stood up for herself or kept out of the action.

The rooks are raucous, shouting and demanding as they fly over head. Blackbirds are bold as they scuttle along the ground. There’s a tit’s nest in our porch, but not in the tit-box I carefully put up. And no occupants, to date in the house martins nest and the swift boxes either.

In the field behind us there’s a horse which whinnies enthusiastically much of the evening. But I don’t know enough ‘horse’ to know whether it’s joy, frustration or just high spirits. No-one seems to be concerned however, so I assume all is OK Continue reading “Sitting on the fence”