After lunch I took my walk through Barton and over the fields, coming back by the Crab Apple Road. It was a most extraordinary afternoon. Most of the sky was very pale creamy blue, and there were clouds about, of the coldest shade of dark blue I have ever seen. The further hills were exactly the same as the clouds in colour and texture. But near the sun the sky simply turned white and the sun itself (its outline was invisible) was a patch of absolutely pure white light that looked as if it had no [more] power of heating than moonlight – tho’ it was quite a mild day in fact.
I got into a tremendously happy mood, what with the joy of being home again and certain vague anticipations of good thing beginning and a general sense of frosts breaking up – like the beginning of the Prelude. Some few birds were making a great noise as if it was spring …
• From All My Road Before Me
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