Fields of Barley

As I was driving over to the Newcastle on Tuesday when it was incredibly windy, I saw a field of unripe barley rippling in the wind.  It was such an uplifting sight, I pulled off the A69 and turned down a side road so that I could stop and admire the spectacle.  The field shimmered like shot silk as the whiskery heads bowed and tossed in carefree abandon; it was if the crop was dancing exuberantly to the irresistible music of the wind.  After a few minutes, I drove off with an overwhelming sense of cheerfulness that lasted all day