All across the countryside the ripe crops are being harvested, munched up by giant machines and neatly separated into trailers of grain and tidy bales of straw. Wheat has to be my favourite crop at the point of harvest, those beautifully structured ears which glow a beautiful gold in the sunshine. The idyllic blue skies and warm breeze along with swishing dry crop really do live up to the picture of high summer that I dream up in my mind. Isn't it perfect?





Just don't run through the field.
Sophie