On our magical country lane.
It always seems like an entry to fairyland and the stillness, when there aren't any pickup trucks going up and down, is unbelievable. Not even the sounds of the forest - chipmunks making kissing noises, a faraway woodpecker, a rustling of something in the bushes, the drip of water from the trees.
Walking down on an afternoon there were some interesting clouds.
I had a debate with hubby whether this was a mackerel sky. "Mackerel sky, neither wet nor dry" is the not very helpful sailors' term, apparently.
While below the roadside wild flowers run riot. It's chicory and Queen Anne's lace time right now. My paltry phone camera can't capture the unique bluey-purpleness of the chicory.