Utvidet returrett til 31. januar 2024

Field and Hedgerow

Om Field and Hedgerow

"The Life of the Fields" and "Field and Hedgerow," by Richard Jefferies, are delightful books for lover of the country. - The Parents' Review "A July fly went sideways over the long grass. His wings made a burr about him like a net, beating so fast they wrapped him round with a cloud. Every now and then, as he flew over the trees of grass, a taller one than common stopped him, and there he clung, and then the eye had time to see the scarlet spots-the loveliest colour-on his wings. The wind swung the bennet and loosened his hold, and away he went again over the grasses, and not one jot did he care if they were Poa or Festuca, or Bromus or Hordeum, or any other name. Names were nothing to him; all he had to do was to whirl his scarlet spots about in the brilliant sun, rest when he liked, and go on again. I wonder whether it is a joy to have bright scarlet spots, and to be clad in the purple and gold of life; is the colour felt by the creature that wears it?" - from The July Grass.

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  • Språk:
  • Engelsk
  • ISBN:
  • 9781922619778
  • Bindende:
  • Paperback
  • Sider:
  • 274
  • Utgitt:
  • 1. mai 2021
  • Dimensjoner:
  • 140x16x216 mm.
  • Vekt:
  • 390 g.
  • BLACK NOVEMBER
Leveringstid: 2-4 uker
Forventet levering: 22. november 2024

Beskrivelse av Field and Hedgerow

"The Life of the Fields" and "Field and Hedgerow," by Richard Jefferies, are delightful books for lover of the country.
- The Parents' Review
"A July fly went sideways over the long grass. His wings made a burr about him like a net, beating so fast they wrapped him round with a cloud. Every now and then, as he flew over the trees of grass, a taller one than common stopped him, and there he clung, and then the eye had time to see the scarlet spots-the loveliest colour-on his wings. The wind swung the bennet and loosened his hold, and away he went again over the grasses, and not one jot did he care if they were Poa or Festuca, or Bromus or Hordeum, or any other name. Names were nothing to him; all he had to do was to whirl his scarlet spots about in the brilliant sun, rest when he liked, and go on again. I wonder whether it is a joy to have bright scarlet spots, and to be clad in the purple and gold of life; is the colour felt by the creature that wears it?" - from The July Grass.

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