Today I was thinking about Day 50 and that maybe I should do something to celebrate. Maybe drink champagne, even though it will be a Wednesday and I am sure I will be busy.
Today we walked through the sticky yellow fields, the flowers towering almost over my head. We reached the centre, the day 50 of the field, and had to turn back. The middle muddy patch there that never dries out was too soggy to cross with my dainty bronze shoes and my husband's ever white gym ones. We had been too much is a hurry to get out of the door and into the sun to think about sensible footwear.
As we turn and go back the way we've come I keep looking over my shoulder, squinting at the glinting water that stood in our way and I am tempted to take a running jump, long and light, defying the laws of gravity and mud.
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