The moon hasn’t set yet. It’s a white hazey ball – a mirror of the big Chinese lantern still lit as dawn comes to the scene of the wedding, a paddock marked with golden bunting. Sleeping, over-dressed people piled up on top of each other. A Shetland pony eats the remains of the wedding cake. A Border Collie quietly thumps her tail as we walk to the stained and teetering table that served as a bar. The sky, all above as far as our eye can see, is turning a wonderful Royal Blue, the indigo notes highlighted by the white gaze of the moon. It is quiet, with birds just now waking. The dog is beside us now, nose pushed into our hands. A tender, casual gesture that warms our hearts. It was a lovely wedding but we must be off. This isn’t really our scene, our place. The dog follows as we walk softly through the dewy grass to the car park. The sky is lightening. We must go. Tess, the name we have given the dog, nuzzles us one more time and then sits waiting and watching as the engine fires, we reverse and then edge forward. It is morning. The starlings and swallows tell us so. A new day.