Another summer morning. Sitting on the ground with a morning cuppa, watching the marmots scurrying away. I see a glimmer of a fishing line being cast. The morning sun shines on long spiderwebs connecting the bushes. A cacophony of birdsong is the only sound. And the sky is blue. The sun is already hot, and a cool breeze stirs … it’s perfect.

Languorous … that’s a good word for a summer day.