Fields of my dreams
One day I'm going to live in a place where the fields roll on forever. Like a patchwork of green, golden, red, white, blue and yellow.
Divided by hedgerows smothered in flowers and berries, where the butterflies settle and birds duck in and out and the too shy to spy wildlife hide in secret little passages or dive into holes.
Cow parsley, teasels, rose hips, daisies and wild flowers all delicately growing in amongst the corn and the grass. Mother Nature weaving her own fabric of beauty.
In the Springtime I'll marvel at the way nature has her own plans, watching daily for signs of new shoots and growth. Dashing for cover as the heavens open up with another downpour, listening to the rain rhythmic drumming on the ground. Hoping and wishing to see a magnificent double rainbow when the sun peeks out through the low lying clouds and gives us a grin, showing us her face and warmth again.
In Summer I'll feel the long grasses tickle my legs, hearing their swish as I wander past. Hunting for tiny paw prints and freshly hatched eggs, half in a day dream half in a daze, running my fingers along the very tops of their ears letting the tips tickle my palms. Playing hide and seek and gazing up at the clouds scudding across the wide open space listening to the collared doves coo and call on the warm evening breeze.
In Autumn I'll catch my breath at the gorgeous golden glow, shadows casting spindly legs...until all is cut back for the harvest. Spiders weave webs that sparkle and glimmer capturing dew droplets that look like tiny diamonds suspended in air and crows call to out to each other all searching for scraps. Smelling that deep earthiness and crunching of leaves - small animals gathering making homes, hideaways buried deep in the edges - we are all preparing for the oncoming Winter. But wait - look up to the skies and you may be lucky to see the starlings do their aerial acrobats at dusk.
And Winter of course, do we dare venture out - all wrapped up warm against the elements nonetheless - whether it be the frost or a biting wind, snow or maybe two of the three. Seeing the brown of the earth and hearing a different kind of crunch. Daylight wanderers all searching for different things, warm breath on cold air giving out puffs of smoke - dragons breath as we fondly nickname it - hoping and waiting for that first sign of Spring.
These are my seasons it has to be true, because this is the stuff of my dreams.
One day I'm going to live in a place where the fields roll on forever.