I'll admit to finding something deeply special at this time of year, just after midsummer, at the particular time of day as the sun is about to set and the land is suddenly lighter, for a few minutes, than it's been before. I think it's called the 'gloaming'; the time between sunset and dusk. For me, it's the magic moment of summer time.
Friday was a grey old day. I had come down late the night before, leaving Charlie in London having a party with our lovely neighbour Nic from here in Dorset, who was staying with him up at the flat for a night. I had to be down in Dorset for work and meetings. Which was ironic. Chilly clouds scudded across the Dorset hills on Friday morning, and by the afternoon rain was sweeping in from the west. At eight o' clock, I collected Charlie and Nic from Dorchester station.
As we dropped down into the valley the skies cleared and a beautiful, soft sunset fell upon the drenched, misty landscape. We got home to find Charlie's border looking like a jewel.