The emerald forest glimmered with pools of golden light, and long shadows were pulled far across the earth. Even the air was infused with green light, and with each breath a deep sense of peace flowed. The forest itself sighed with perfect contentment, and birdsong drifted through the spaces between leaves.
Ivy tenderly climbed around the trees, moving towards the light. Her green leaves will remain, cloaking the bare winter branches in the months to come. But for now her glossy leaves shared the forest with summers fluttering dress.
Then, without warning the trees end, and a drystone wall draws a line between the green of the trees and the green of the rolling hills. Sheep scattered like flowers among the velvet green blades of the grass, cast their own long shadows. Emerald hills flow in waves towards the horizon, miles in the distance.
Ahead of us the soft green hills roll onwards into the future, hiding the earths magic beneath their velvet slopes. The season turns under the hooves of the sheep and their lengthening shadows, as it has for thousands of years. The eternal earth and her summer greens have woven another perfect tale of emerald delight on the slopes of Gala Hill, deep in the Scottish Borders.