It's bramble season.
Morning walks are blackberry-laden.
The dogs are covered in dew and grass seeds.
There are butterflies everywhere.
And bracken, unfurling, bending over the paths.
We have one desk that sits perpendicular to the window. There is a light on each end, piles of books, a stapler, two laptops that face each other, each with a chair behind it. This is where we sit in the mornings, where we work, and today there is a bowl of brambles in between us, sweet and juicy, which we both nibble on.