I’ve just returned from a short stroll down our lane in the cool of the evening, to see the glorious harvest moon rising from behind the trees over a pale shimmering field of oats. Like a ripe apricot as it first appeared, and surrounded by a faint halo of golden haze, it gradually rose and paled, and will soon look cool and blue-white as it escapes into the night sky.
As we walked back towards the house, a bat was flitting low under the trees against the last light of sunset, and a sudden waft of honeysuckle scent drifted down from the hedge, followed by faintly resinous air under the pines. Distant bleating of sheep and the ubiquitous hum of traffic on the coast road did little to disturb the nocturnal peace.
A perfect late summer evening – just the antidote to all the troubles of life at present.
(Why no photo? – your imagination will paint a much better picture!)