Path of gold
The circular walk which I try to do with the dogs every evening has become quite an institution.
From lunchtime onwards, in a crescendo of fervour, Galileo anticipates my every rise from a chair as a promising signal.
I love it too. The way being hard, I even manage to walk without hardly thinking of anything but the walk.
There’s one place along the route where golden flowers grow so thickly their colour melts like light across the sea.
No matter how many times we pass through, the flowers seem to spring back fresh as ever.