Summer MEADOW
IT’S EARLY MORNING. You’re sitting outside on a sun-warmed hillock of grass, listening to the birds calling.
You hear a symphony of chirrups, among them the songs of goldfinches, firecrests, wrens, and, soaring high above, the skin-shivering cry of swifts. Perhaps you hear a cuckoo’s echoing call.
Opening your eyes, you take in the glossy blue of
