Doug’s DIARY

It’s late August here, and I’m possessed by the melancholy that often conquers me at this time of year. I’m not ready for the summer to end yet, and I’m willing the sunshine that we experienced a few weeks ago to shine down on us again, and for a while longer.

I’m sure we’ll get a little bit more yet, although the evenings are cooler now, and spiderwebs across the meadows are heavy with morning dew as autumn approaches. Flowers in the hedgerows are losing their colours, and everywhere is that dark green of late summer.

Nature is plumping up its fruits, ready to provide abundance in the weeks to come. The tracks in the nearby forest are lined with wild raspberries, smaller than their cultivated relatives, and sharper too, but a free treat on our family strolls through the woodland.

Rosebay willowherb is transforming its dramatic spires of pink flowers into clumps of downiness, which disperse as they take to the air and float on the breeze, chased