Ingleman

By Ingleman

There Are No Sheep

I went up the hill this evening, cloud spotting.

Looking back down into the valley I could see the cloverfield where the tractor wheel came off two days ago. The white blobs are the bales of clover now sealed in white plastic. All very environmentally friendly. Not.

This is where I live now. In this image there are bales of silage and hay, bullocks and no sheep.

And no people. Not a single one. 

Heaven. 

In the extra you will see the strange lights that creep up my bedroom wall in the morning. It's a weird and wonderful quirk of light, shining through the shutters we had installed earlier in the year. Spooky! 

And after my walk. when I got home, I discovered all of our fruit had been stolen. 

I was peachless. 

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