Fields of gold ...

This scene, taken at Inverchaolain on Loch Striven this afternoon, had me singing "Fields of Gold" (mercifully silently) for the rest of the walk. I wonder if the song was thinking of this kind of gold field, not of wheat but of grass bleached and dry after the heatwave. The red is a great clump of wild sorrel, again something that seems to be flourishing in the current weather.

It was a perfect afternoon, with just enough wind blowing up the loch to refresh when we turned to walk back. It made me think yet again how lucky we are to live here, and how people stuck working in London - especially London because I know it a little - would feel if suddenly transported here, away from the filthy streets and random smells from a city that needs washed by some rain. When we stopped for a seat, all we could hear apart from the slight lapping of the loch was a distant oystercatcher - or maybe a curlew - and the sudden burst of sound from a grasshopper.

I could actually do without the rain for a bit longer ...