Edited by Patricia Stammers, Monday, 1 Apr 2013, 09:42
I love the farm shop. To get there, you tramp most of the way, across the fields, which are soft with straw just now, after the harvest. The last part of the journey, by road, was particularly inspired, as the adjacent, stream had burst its banks and was cascading into Candle Street. So you had to paddle at the cross roads.
At the farm there were, raspberries, blackberries and vermillion, coloured tomatoes, for sale but I wanted spinach.
"I'll get you some from the field," said the shop-keeper and returned a few moments later, with a freshly picked bundle of big, bright green leaves, for ninety pence.
The most remarkable sight, on the journey home, besides the golden stubble fields and the huge sky was in the hedge; a cluster of scarlet, headed, Lords and Ladies. Took the middle way across the common, to avoid bothering the rabbits. It's emptiness, made me wish I was, fourteenth century, Flossie, with a flock of something.
To Sunnyside Farm September 1st 2012
I love the farm shop. To get there, you tramp most of the way, across the fields, which are soft with straw just now, after the harvest. The last part of the journey, by road, was particularly inspired, as the adjacent, stream had burst its banks and was cascading into Candle Street. So you had to paddle at the cross roads.
At the farm there were, raspberries, blackberries and vermillion, coloured tomatoes, for sale but I wanted spinach.
"I'll get you some from the field," said the shop-keeper and returned a few moments later, with a freshly picked bundle of big, bright green leaves, for ninety pence.
The most remarkable sight, on the journey home, besides the golden stubble fields and the huge sky was in the hedge; a cluster of scarlet, headed, Lords and Ladies. Took the middle way across the common, to avoid bothering the rabbits. It's emptiness, made me wish I was, fourteenth century, Flossie, with a flock of something.