Something made me get up early and go for a walk in the meadows across the river this morning. It was one of those soft, clear mornings with the sky stretched tight from horizon to horizon. The dragonflies were already about, and there were birds singing everywhere. It would have been a perfect morning if it were not for the rusty lawnmower-grinding of a light aircraft overhead. I looked up for a while but the sun was too bright to keep the plane in view for long; then its engine cut out and all was quiet again. I looked around to see where it had gone but you know how it is -- there was a lot of sky, and the plane was almost overhead so I could not find it. In fact I was already coming back in for breakfast when I found it. It came hurtling along the river below the tops of the trees and bounced across the meadow behind me, leaving odd bits of its undercarriage behind as it crashed into the far hedge.