Introduction


Can each day be headlined by a word (or two) and represented by a single sentence?

Will they, in turn, weave together to form a tapestry of the year?

It may be more mundane than momentous, but it’s mine to share.

Sunday, 11 September 2016

Harvest

At this time of year, with the weather remaining fine, the roads around the village are full of tractors hauling over-laden trailers of hay from field to somewhere mysterious but clearly very big; the compensation for being stuck driving behind them is the sight of the shaved fields randomly dotted with cylinders of gold, forming an alien-looking landscape for a day or two until the stacks are gathered up and stored away.
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