Bounded by dark oak trees, washed with the mossy odour of a damp forest floor, were pineapples growing as casual as you’d like from the damp soil of Speyside.
There were new smells, fresh smells, a breeze on my nose and so much to explore. The ground was dusty, pale, with small patches of long dry grass, rising and falling as far as I could see. This was a happy place.
It’s a long time to Spring. It always seems to be the case round here. Just a few miles from the sunshine coast, but inland the fog lingers…
I suppose long before the transaction and well before hindsight had a chance to kick in, I knew this wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had.