Explore "Auntie Robbo" by Ann Scott-Moncrieff on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It was June when they reached the Caledonian Canal. The Highland summer was at its best--long, sun-filled, wind-cooled days when the sky grew only more deeply blue as the hours passed, flaring at last into splendid sunset, dying into the pale gloom of night.
They got up with the sun, they went to bed with it. All the world was newly green--as if spring was in summer there--bright grass, unfurling bracken, young heather. Wild flowers crowded the ditches and burns. Hayfields and new corn shone, their short crops combed by the summer wind. Far away hills lay like static blue clouds against the bluer sky; and near at hand, sun-striped and tawny, like great beasts lapped in sleep.