These elderflower banks are killing me. Large flat plates of creamy umbrels, and a honey scent that
envelopes me as I ride my bike through an invisible cloud of it. I manage to keep my balance, but try not to fall for all of this. And, then I do. The old Avalanche chapel continues to attract me, with its empty rooms, and faded, kitchen curtain folds behind old glass windows. It's crazy out there, even in the practical daylight. After dark, the full moon's glow, mingles with, yes, clouds of lightning bugs twinkling across the hay field and a gauzy layer of ground mist. Too Beautiful.