Читать книгу Lost Voices of the Edwardians: 1901–1910 in Their Own Words - Max Arthur, Max Arthur - Страница 161

During the summer we roamed far and wide over the plain, with no restrictions of any kind and seeing no one but an occasional shepherd. In due season we went in search of peewit eggs to take home for breakfast, or to fill our baskets with mushrooms. The cry of the peewits and never-ending song of the larks, the beautiful little harebells, the rabbit warrens, the sudden start of a hare and, above all, the short, springy turf that was so pleasant to walk on. This is what Salisbury Plain means to me.