The Meadow

I step into the long grass and I am immediately taken to a different place. Here everything is small, intricate and busy. The closer I look the more I become absorbed in this vast and detailed world.

With the sun comes the dizzying sound of thousands of grasshoppers, all competing to be heard. They are so small I can only see them as they scatter up in front of my boots in a spray of light brown dots. When they land they are invisible again.

Hoverflies bustle amongst the grass stems, darting so fast they appear and vanish like illusionists.

A bright Cinnabar moth catches my eye. The colours warn it’s not a tasty treat. It loves and is sitting on Ragwort, a yellow-flowered plant which it’s larvae devour.

I walk on, the more I look, the more I see and the more I want to see. I could spend many days here. Reluctantly I check the time. I have to go.

I step back onto the path and the meadow-spell vanishes in an instant. I glance back over my shoulder. I want to stay. There is so much to discover but it will have to wait until tomorrow.