Blue sky, warm(ish) sunlight, green leaves twirling in the breeze, a small village (with working silk mill) in rural England, church bells in the old church with roses blooming against the stone walls ringing wildly. Two brown horses graze along the dirt road leading to the famous and ancient church contemplate us as we turn the car around.
“Do you ever feel,” I say turning to J, “that you’re just waiting for sometime to yell cut?” (Especially since the second picture prompted lots of Stardust quotes in the car.)
Because where I come from perfection is seen on the sound stage, usually with a whole lot of sleight of hand to make it look so. But don’t worry, this temporary bliss won’t last long. Life without air conditioning (at all, none in the car, in the house or in stores here) will spoil the idyll long before summer is over.
That and the rain.
