Picking Foxgloves

Mornings like this I remember how incredibly lucky I am to live where I do. Glenalmond, yes that is the glen of the River Almond, is a wonderful haven of greenery. The freshness in the air is like no other. When it has been raining, like it did last night, the dampness seeps through the sodden leaves and mossy scents juxtapose  wild garlic. Up the road, near our golf course is a woodland area, which was, when I was fourteen a veritable forest. Now fairy trails play through paths of foxglove boarders. Deep racing greens flick like an artists pallet.