Sugar Puffs

I went out at lunchtime.

It was that fantastic kind of weather where the clouds were blowing quickly over the land, casting dark shadows. Between the shadows and spots of rain, there was warm bright sunshine and I could have just flopped down in this field and fallen asleep.

The fields of barley and wheat were blown in great swooshing gusts, like waves over a windswept loch where I might have been drifting in a boat casting for trout and hoping that, in the cloudy moments, one big fish might rise to my fly.

Oh, that came out a bit poetic. I must have been hit by a romantic moment between mad phone calls, emails, reports, blah blah... work sucks. Bring on the holidays. :O)

Emma-less day. Sniffle...

I have not got a clue why it's called sugar puffs.