….But not just in the form of the cold, hard metal of cheerful Olympic glory.
Look to the trees.
Is it just me, or are the paler vestments of Autumn already beginning to decorate the deep, dark green of our mysterious & ancient woodland? Gazing out across the valley, certain trees are already reluctantly admitting to the passing of Summer’s season; even though She has thus far only graced us with one tentative week of warmth, way back in the latter days of July when we were celebrating the happy launch of our bright hopes at the Royal Welsh Show. Those seemed to be halcyon days; yet are already part of the dim & distant past, as we’ve devoted all our efforts into establishing our vital Dairy Complex, ever since.
And now we’re almost there….
But somehow I feel cheated, like an Olympic athlete who has put their all into the ultimate prize only to be pipped at the post by a mere whisker of a second. This Summer should have been our triumph: yet to an extent we still languish, hamstringed by the tedious wheels of bureucracy & finance to which we are all reluctant slaves: wheels which threaten to crush many businesses’ very existence yet through no fault of their own, the hapless victims of commercial circumstance.
But we’re battle-hardened; & not easily beaten. It’ll take far more to bring us to our knees….& at last, we’re almost there.
The sun shone wanly over the valley, today: but the cheery swallow who serenades me awake at first light was no longer there to greet the dull, grey dawn; & a few of the trees in the deep darkness of the wood appear weary, their foliage jaded & yellowed like leathern skin on an aged & sallow body. The gloomy days of dank Winter are lurking already along the valley, as a lonely owl cries for her mate into the heavy darkness of an increasingly autumnal night….
….all we can hope for are some brisk, crisply bright days in which the evenings sing with the gold of sunfall & the calm of a still, clear moon after eventide. Sunshine makes the tiredst dawn sing with bright hope; & our hope is for hay, a few lovely, dry September days during which we can cut our crop & relax again….