Usually I try to fit in at least one visit to the Villagers every summer. On one trip, BV and I took the scenic route (as my dad would say), and passed an absolutely brilliant field of purple flowers along the way. We made a mental note to stop on the way home to take some pictures, but that ended up being unnecessary. The Villagers had some things to do on that Saturday during the day, but they gave us some hiking tips for the area, and off we set. I’m pretty sure we veered FAR off course, as we were out for damn near the entire day, went through villages they didn’t even recognize the names of, oh, and did I mention it was at least 90 degrees? Thank goodness some of those villages had beer.
But at some point as we wandered along in the blistering sun, we recognized a smudge of purple in the distance. Sure enough, it was that field again. It almost seemed fake, lying there in between the greens and golds of the crops in the surrounding fields, but it was real. We skirted the edge as we turned ourselves (we hoped) back in the direction of the Villagers, and listened to the hum of thousands and thousands of bees. Can’t think of too many better ways to spend a Saturday.