The harvest is well on its way to being gathered in .I passed my wind rippled barley field but it is all gone . All that is left is stubble ; sentry like stalks standing stiffly to attention in orderly rows waiting to be ploughed back into the rich red Devon soil in Autumn . In our narrow lanes I regularly come nose to nose with the giant combine harvesters as they move from farm to farm . High above you is the cab with the driver , who looks barely old enough to hold a licence , almost daring you not to reverse out of his way . I have a feeling that the machine could gobble me up ,car and all and spit me out in a sealed black plastic roll only to be fed to some disdainful vegetarian cow in the depths of winter -what a way to go .In the hedgerows honeysuckle intertwines with strands of convolvulus with its giant Persil white trumpets .
Sunday was a quintessential summer's day .Sugar puff clouds in a blue sky and a gentle breeze . I took V to Killerton our local National Trust Estate to see the herbaceous borders which are in full bloom .There are wonderful views across rolling hills and in the distance the sound of bat on leather - all very satisfactory . But then I realised V could no longer see what I could see - not even the flowers if I directed her head . She has lost the ability to focus and her head is permanently bent down .All I could do was to describe the colours . It is interesting that we both used to see colours in a different way . To me red is red ,blue is blue yellow is yellow but V has a different palette . As an artist ,which she was , colours are magenta , cerise , burnt umber , mauve .My descriptions must seem so basic and crude . But I hope that in some deep recess of her memory she can conjure up an image, she can't tell me but surely there must be some spark left mustn't there ?