Sweeping the Sky - Richard Jefferies Reimagined (#3)
There is sunshine to-day, after rain, and every lark is singing. Across the vale a broad cloud-shadow descends the hillside ... The sunshine follows—the warmer for its momentary absence.
The Hills and the Vale - 1909
Wandering alongside an autumn hedge all yellows, browns, reds, pinks and purples my eye was caught by a bright flash of orange-red ahead of me; a Redstart - its wings flapping in a blur; its tail fanning out - orange-red as it hovers and snatches at a fly. It lands on a fence post, standing upright, its tail shivering. An adult male. Then up it jumps again snatching at another passing insect and lands on a dead branch further along - it’s fiery tail and ‘tweet-tut’ fretting call teasing me on ...
A pale cerulean-blue sky – crisscrossed with misty white vapour trails of planes - a modern art canvas; paint casually, thrown from the artists brush; white clouds tinged salmon-pink hanging over the blue-grey mountains; just before sunrise – white wreaths of mist lingering over the fields and valley wood mirroring the vapour trails above. A lone Buzzard calls ...
Swifts are frequently flying low over the garden at lightning speed, screaming as they do. It’s a little like being stood on a railway station platform, with a train thundering past every few minutes.
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