Golden apples of the sun

The Song of Wandering Aengus
 
I went out to the hazel wood,
Because a fire was in my head,
And cut and peeled a hazel wand,
And hooked a berry to a thread;
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
 
When I had laid it on the floor
I went to blow the fire a-flame,
But something rustled on the floor,
And someone called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.
 
Though I am old with wandering
Through hollow lands and hilly lands,
I will find out where she has gone,
And kiss her lips and take her hands;
And walk among long dappled grass,
And pluck till time and times are done,
The silver apples of the moon,
The golden apples of the sun.
 
W B Yeats

I thought you might like a bit of a poem to go with this uncomplicated shot.  And before you think it, yes, the sky at lunchtime over Shawford Down really was this blue, I haven't saturated it at all.

So V, Jax and I went to The Bridge for a drink and minimal lunch before walking up onto the Down.  It was so warm it felt like early summer.  Near the top was this apple tree growing wild.  It didn't have many leaves left, but it did have these wonderful golden apples.  I stood in a briar patch to take the shot.

Thank you so much for your lovely comments, hearts and stars on yesterday's red squirrel.  It was a great treat for me seeing my first red and you just made it all the more lovely!

Enjoy your evening and have a good start to the week  xx