Contemplation

At peace with the world.
Lying in the dappled shade of the gnarled old pepper tree on a perfect morning – a gentle breeze fanning the leaves and eliciting a gentle swishing sound;
Thin vapour trails of cloud, and the occasional cotton wool ball of heavier substance lazily floating over the immensely clear blue dome;
Grasshoppers gently churring in the long grass;
Butterflies by the score, disporting their coloured selves among the surrounding bushes;
The acrobatic swallows  darting to and fro, swooping for a quick snack, then soaring on;
A homely pigeon alighting on a branch, his gentle cooing somehow soothing;
Nearby, the contented munching of ponies, the occasional snort, and the continual swishing of tails forming a companionable background;
The dog, vaguely terrier type, happily pottering around investigating interesting odours, then flopping down panting in the shade, but still keeping a watchful eye and ear open for any distraction;
The companionable cat sitting quietly contemplating, then strolling off to explore the possibility of surprising an unwary mouse for her dinner;
The tin roofs shimmering on the hillside in the distance, the whole countryside quivering in the heat – that fierce, burning heat sapping the energy from everything, relieved only momentarily by a short gust of wind.

Suddenly – the cat races off in feigned panic to the safety of the garden; the dog, taking this as an excuse, barks daringly at nothing; the ponies prick up their ears, semi-alarmed, and dash away to a more restful spot.
The peace is shattered.
Even the wind is now bearing down scattering leaves and bending branches.

Ah well! There’s always tomorrow.

Sputnik

Sputnik

Susie

Susie

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