The clouds are missing from the milky blue morning sky and the dew swims between the parched grass seemingly looking to revive the sun dried weary blades. There is a briskness to the still air but its not cold.
The serials have been harvested and the once turgid green land has given way to a beige blanket over the fields. The trees have taken on a burnt edge to the leaves and some are jettisoned as it struggles to support their burgeoning frames.
The Sunflowers stand motionless and blind now, waiting patiently to meet their end. To me they conjure up an image of the fallen men on the Somme. Once standing full of life facing the sunrise of their future but now, lifeless head bowed, their years cut short heading for the last sunset.