A Summer Morn

It was one of those perfect English summer morns that don't happen too often.
The mere was a brilliant shade of blue,reflecting the sky above.
A lone Heron flew languidly into view his harsh squawk echoing into the silence of the new day.
Large numbers of acrobatic Swallows skilfully skimmed the glass like mirrored surface of the sun dazzled water.
The woods were alive with birdsong,such a deafening cacophony of noise yet so silent and empty too,the trees still wearing their best green colours and a new carpet was taking over from the faded spring floral one that had entranced us of a few weeks ago.
The tiny fast flowing brook glinted with the dappled woodland sunlight catching the ripples which trickled over it's weed covered stones,
The meadows beyond dancing with butterflies and literally humming with insect life.
A family of Mistle Thrushes hopped around the grassy field,we counted at least 6,a good year for them it would seem,over the other side a pair of busy Blackbirds were gathering food for their new family.
A Woodpecker was drumming an old dead trunk somewhere in the distance,with an assuredly rhythmic tap and a Nuthatch descended jerkily from another leafless bough.
We left them to their summer activities and walked home for breakfast......it was one of those perfect English summer morns.