Little green.

Mackerel clouds bring warm gusty wind. The swifts dart over the field. A woodpecker flies close overhead its spotty black and white and red feathers startle me as I crouch in the long grass pouring green ink on paper. Green, flowing , pouring off into the grass, painting it a slightly different green. Another way of painting the land. Wading through the grass I find a sett and am thrilled at the thought of badgers sleeping beneath my feet…..

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