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Welcome to Hobbit Moments, do please take a seat by the fire! You'll stay for tea I hope?

Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves

What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace.

That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique.

I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back?

So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon.
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Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves

What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace.

That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique.

I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back?

So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon.

Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace. That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique. I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back? So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon. Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace. That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique. I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back? So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon. Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace. That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique. I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back? So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon. Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace. That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique. I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back? So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon. Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace. That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique. I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back? So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon. Day 238 - Sunlight through the leaves What an afternoon it was in this corner of the shire, the perfect template of a summers day. Warm, but not uncomfortably hot. A whispering breeze. The constantly changing light of gathering cumulus clouds. And trees. Lots of trees to walk beneath at a contemplative pace. That light is mesmerising in its contrasts, especially when it catches the leaves. Some sit in shadow while some glow, quickened in the moment into something altogether more beautiful than they can be by themselves. Some the light floods through in wild palettes of green, others burn brightly at the edges and all are unique. I hear them before I can see them between the trees, a pair of buzzards, steeping, wheeling, hanging on invisible columns of air that they can play and dance around. No flaps, only outstretched wing-kites as they cry their mastery of the air. Off to the east dark clouds grow and while they may inch their way west to trouble the evening something is keeping them at bay this afternoon, a line they dare not pass - perhaps it is the cries of the buzzards keeping them back? So precious in its rarity, this was a perfect summer afternoon.
7th August