Walk with me through the kissing gate and across the Downs. Into the field where only the beech holds onto its yellow leaves.
Where berries hang like early Christmas lights and we walk the path lined with fleece to find the sheep who once enjoyed the company of Beatrix Potter.
Then take the slow road up the hill where the sun still sits on the horizon and feathers mark the way. Follow the patchwork hedgerow to join the road home where the sun turns the beech to gold.
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