"The evening was still. Across the field, the Haseley woods stood silhouetted against the burnished gold of the dying sun, their black outline softened and blurred in the fading light. Close at hand, holding sway over the darkening garden, stood the maritime pine, its branches uplifted in a wild, proud stance before the silky backdrop of the violet-coloured twilight sky; and behind it, looking so close to the earth that one could almost reach out and touch it, a delicate sliver of silver moon shone brightly, cradling the dim round shadow of the old moon in its arms..."
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