(Above) Poppies in Mrs Blanchard's garden, about two weeks ago. Her garden is close to the edge, but the slope is quite gentle at this point.
In very hot weather there is a period, between about two o'clock and three o'clock, when the landscape seems to fall absolutely silent. Being at home these last few days, I've noticed the regularity of the phenomenon. Not that there's a great deal of noise anyway - a car over a mile away makes a low faint whooshing noise that indicates it's moving along the connecting road (from nowhere to nowhere, since there are no through roads in this part of the county). But usually there is the noise of the birds, or the sound of the wind in the trees, or some indeterminate scuffling in the undergrowth.
But between two and three the world falls silent. It's as if I have suddenly become profoundly deaf - until the passing of a bee, or other insect, intrudes and breaks the heavy tranquillity. It's an uncanny experience.
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