Yesterday was a beautiful sunny winter afternoon and I walked further than I had intended, going across the local common and on into some woods beyond that I had only visited a few times before. There is supposed to be the remains of a Roman villa somewhere around there but you'd have to be an archaeologist with a trowel to find it. As far as I can tell there is nothing more than some sunken ground where once it might have been. Still, it is nice to think that there was something of the sort there at one time. It reminded me of when I was at a school and we had a Roman tea party during which we were all supposed to speak in Latin (it was that kind of school). There was dormouse and honey on the menu, a Roman delicacy apparently, but I think we had dormouse substitute.
When I came out of the woods it was still light though the sun was about to set. In front of me was a wide stretch of farmland which was all newly sown grass but the farmer had kindly left a path through which you could walk to get back to the common which was my route home. In the middle of the field there was one solitary tree standing rather like a scarecrow. He had lost all his leaves but stood proudly like a sentry on duty. "This is my field", he seemed too say. "You can cross it but don't linger too longer or trample the young grass."