noon
Like a child in many ways , but with nothing of its innocence . * * * * * I stand by the guide-post where the road turns off to Øvrebø . There is no emotion in me . The day lies broad and bright over meadow and woods ; here and there is ploughing and harrowing in the fields , but all moves slowly , hardly seems to move at all , for it is full noon and a blazing sun . I walk a little way on beyond the post , dragging out the time before going up to the house . After an hour , I go into the woods and wander about there for a while ; there are berries in flower and a scent of little green leaves . A crowd of thrushes go chasing a crow across the sky , making a great to-do , like a clattering confusion of faulty castanets .