High Summer

Summer is at its hottest. The Matainui has dried up. All along the dusty road huge dragonflies lie lifeless, their cycles complete. Up the valley road the blackberries are ripening, growing fat and sweet in the heat of the long days. Days are spent roaming, the children disappearing into the tangles of wild blackberry bushes, emerging hours later with buckets overflowing. It is barefoot season, shoes have long since been forgotten in the cloak room. Even the snow on the Alps has receded so you can only catch the tiniest glimpses from the house. We are making wishes on first stars and dandelion wish fairies, wishing that the summer never ends.