Already, much of what is here is going over, July's colour lapsing into the dullness of August. Some of the barley is harvested, the rest and the wheat will soon follow.
Lughnasadh, Lammas, loaf-mass.
(Molly is doing very well; no further anaesthetic, poking or incisions are recommended, at least for the moment. Tom says he'll never get cross about her barking again, and if he does I'm to remind him he said that. But I won't.)