There's no wind in the willows

The evening is still, the breeze has dropped, the animals have been fed and locked away safely for the night after a humid day of sun and occasional light showers.
The air is beginning to cool and it now feels really good to be standing outside, as the swallows dip and dive, looking out across the expansive, but much-maligned Fens as the sun slowly sinks.

So much so, that the Canon camera has been called into action to capture the scene at 9.20pm from the bottom of our garden by the motionless willow trees.
No sign of Ratty, Mole, Mr Toad or Badger as I peer over the gate beside the drainage ditch now filled with water. Not quite the Berkshire stretch of the River Thames where The Wind in the Willows author Kenneth Grahame messed about in boats, but it still is what I would describe as very-English summer, all the same.
I don't think the pictures need captions. Please click on the photographs and enjoy.