A red kite hangs in the air as I turn into the village.
Follow me it seems to say.
The bird soars above pointing the way.
I follow the road and it leads me to a row of stone built cottages.
I have arrived.
A church clock chimes the half-hour.
One door has friends and tea ready behind it.
(I have the cake with me).
We check and recheck the weather.
Check again and after the tea and cake, gather our things.
Decision made.
Down a country lane, one that narrows and narrows and seems to lead nowhere.
Then a shady track.
We sidestep the puddles.
The lands opens up, long grass surrounds us and a gate to the left.
We have permission and we unlock and enter.
Pine trees with candelabra branches full of cones greet us.
Oxeye daisies dance, white petals catching the sunlight.
There is an impression through the long grass.
Not a track, but enough for us to follow.
Dotted around us are cones of purple, first one, then two.
Then many.
The orchids herald our way.
We spy another purple, more delicate.
A flower I only know about, and have never seen.
Another of the orchid family.
As I watch, a bee demonstrates exactly how it got its name.
Baa, baa, baa, baa, baa, baa.
The sound of the sheep pulls us towards our destination.
A distinctive bird call. *
A mass of reeds to our left.
We are here.
Shimmering, clear, translucent.
Water beckons.
We swim.
*A common reed warbler
Fabulously written. We followed your words down the pathway, stopping to gaze at the bee orchids. We have them in our meadow. Such a joy.