Midway through August a sense of the end of Summer seemed to arrive early.By the first week of September the sun had receded further South and the light was changing. There were blackberries . Walking to the “owl” we chatted about the sadness we felt that both the Barn Owl and now the Little Owls no longer seemed to inhabit the barn we lovingly called “the Owl” . Standing on the “magic bench ” we looked North West feeling just a chill in the air.
The Swallows swooped restlessly over the fields probably dreaming of North Africa.