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 the sky, and inhale the lemony, vanilla scent of wildflowers. Flowers bob around you, nodding in a refreshing breeze.
If you choose to, you remove your shoes. Stand up, feeling the softness of grass beneath your soles. A grainy, earthy aroma rises with the fragrance of crushed leaves. The ground is cool and firm – blades of grass brush your ankles. You walk slowly, stretching out your arms wide and feeling the breeze…
