It is a balmy, late afternoon in early autumn when the sky has a lustre not seen at other times. We can spy a farmer working in the meadows and cattle grazing in the distance to our left. A small brook, now a mere trickle at summer's end, passes before our feet as it finds its way down the gentle hillside. Summer is winding down. There is a sweet melancholy pervading the scene. It is a time of ending.
