Not only are you my favorite imaginary friend, you are also the one closest to myself. You want to do something with the land up the hill, as it truly is a waste to leave it to the horses. It gets full of thistle this way, as the horses don’t eat it. We went there when the weather was still in its beautiful autumn-y twilight. The oak grove has grown to a considerable size and the brambles have taken over that fig tree we gathered from, that year. We were wearing sandals and got our ankles scratched by the dead thistle and the cow parsley - you know, the flower that filled the field last august with white floating umbrellas.