We’re nearing peak moulting season.
A dead swallow.
A walk on the Moor.
An early morning garden visitor.
An entirely fictional Caught by the River event.
The fields have been mown in my absence.
A moth, midges, water-boatmen, and a spider.
Some public-spirited soul has been up to no good.
A walk in the rain to examine foxgloves.
A sticky spell.