Down the lane to the village Commons. . .
. . .past horses black and white. . .
. . . to a winding path where Tilly surveys her domain with satisfaction and delight.
Then she's off. . .
. . . tearing past the cow fields. . .
. . . prowling though the bracken. . .
. . . prancing over the green with joy.
This is Tilly's idea of heaven: black birds above, green grass below, and a sea of rich smells to travel through. She follows her nose. . . and I follow Tilly. . . and this is my idea of heaven too.
