The weather is still fair. The ground is dry and dusty, the grasses turning yellow. A few leaves are starting to fall. Poplar leaves lie like bright gold triangles on the ground I have to pick them up. Lime tree seeds whirl in the wind.
I see a small copper butterfly clinging to ragwort. I find a tuft of deer hair and a beetle gnawed piece of wood. And, powering across the pond after an enemy one exceedingly angry swan.
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