Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Snowshill: "I've never been so uninteresting to bees"
So - many - bees.
You couldn't call that sound buzzing. In the furrows, Tea's 50mm-equipped Rebel in hand -- she isn't a fan of bees, and her hair smelled like candy -- I can best describe it as a thrum; almost a pressure on your skin, and certainly like a constantly shifting one in your ears. Not unlike swimming underwater.
And - so - relaxing.
I've never been so uninteresting to bees. Ever.
Not repellent. More like I ceased to exist. And, yes, that even topped those beautiful views.
We decided to have supper at the Plough Inn in nearby Ford. While Tea navigated the small cart paths, I happened to catch sight of the sun as it topped an arc of these thick interwoven contrails, for all the world like the grand finale of a fireworks display at its apex, before it bursts in jaw-dropping blindness. (I'm reading The Book of Awesome right now. I'll leave my one word description of that moment as an exercise for the reader.)