On an evening walk last night, I took a picture of these blackberries to remind myself to go and pick some of them and make jam to mark the beginning of September.
And then I liked the picture, so I took a few more of flowers as they disappeared in the twilight.
The air was alive with singing crickets, the distant bells of the sheep pastured near our own place, and the rustle of cows settling in for the night. The air was cool and soft as the last rays of sun retreating over the mountains.
The camera didn’t pick up the nuance and definition of the half moon or the black paper cut-outs of the cypress trees against the darkening sky.
But I hope you get the idea. It had gotten too late and too dark for me to go for a run here, my usual running loop, so I walked it instead.
It was a good walk.