…listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth

Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte

Hidden away, yet not so very far away, from the asphalted path to (over)heated holiday hell waits a world of standing stone sentinels, chalked up symbolism, whispering reeds, serried rows of silent corn. No queues for petrol, diesel, burgers (nor crushing coronaries). No three-laned black topped road to nowhere (and back again).

No sound, except the wind, and the well of words within.

Shot with Nikon D700 in manual mode and ISO200 with AF Nikkor 80-200mm f/2.8D lens.