Heavy day; light reading.

Whisky's warmth ignites the night, Crops in rows, the timing right. Eyes to the stars, seeking inspiration, Yet find only an empty glass, in fervent contemplation.

Elgar's Enigma Variations intricately weave thematic complexity with the pastoral tranquility of our countryside, where the timeless beauty of rolling hills and serene melodies intertwine; each variation a masterful exploration of character and grace. youtu.be/vLNLvcBmoqo

Without farmers, tables would be empty. We toil daily, transforming soil into sustenance, crafting the foundation of health, and serving as backbone of our nation.

According to my niece, I’m too old to make a Sabrina Carpenter reference, and she’s less than impressed: ‘I’m working late, ‘cause I’m a…’ farmer.

Farming transcends mere occupation; it's a calling, a cherished way of life that sustains rural communities. It’s the lifeblood that nourishes land, upholds heritage, and fortifies the nation's spirit. It weaves together tradition and purpose, embodying the essence of devotion.

Infinite passing, rattle the glass at ear, paraffin smears at sunrise, borosilicate tears. In every bloom and breeze, a secret rhythm plays, a testament to time, as foliage decays. Ancient wisdom whispers, peace in pastures new, grace in all abundance, the light a soul pursues.

We plant, we labour, we reap the abundance.

For solitude sometimes is best society, And short retirement urges sweet return. – John Milton, Paradise Lost.

An unrelenting fortnight necessitates a moment of respite. Refreshment was requested, then supplied by my sardonic niece. Not what was envisioned, yet I cannot fault her.

Impiety is an aptness for sophistry.

dies iræ

In the pursuit of agrarian autonomy, a convergence with higher purpose is encountered; through deliberate acts of self-reliance, we reconnect with cardinal truths, fostering personal growth and well-being in our community, aligning ourselves with the intrinsic order of existence.

‘Mae pethau'n dod at eu terfyn nawr, os nad ydw i’n camgymryd.’ – J.R.R. Tolkien, Yr Hobyd.

Civility is a hallmark of noble character.

‘Almost everyone, it seemed, was mad about Wagner.’ – Alexandra Wilson, Opera in the Jazz Age.

Shortening days whisper of summer’s departing intent. Diminishing light serves as a gentle reminder that each season carries its own rhythm; a quiet assurance that as the nights draw in, the cycle of renewal has already begun, illuminating time’s unyielding passage.

Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Veduta del Pantheon d'Agrippa, c. 1756–1765 (The Trustees of the British Museum) CC BY-NC-SA

A deftness of mind is revealed by the direction of its contemplation: some explore the boundless and abstract, others navigate the currents of change, while many linger in the immediate and familiar, each reflecting the depth and limitation of thought.

Then out spake brave Horatius, The Captain of the Gate: ‘To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers, And the temples of his Gods’ – Thomas Babington Macaulay, Horatius.