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We are partly into an early Spring and the horses' struts with their
heads held up. White Palominos all, majestic beauties they'd be in the
heart of the little village passing by the central square where the market
is full of life of sellers and buyers, to gawkers and talkers as well. 

Nearby is the marbled-tier water fountain brimming with fish life and just beyond is the village lake, also teeming with edible fishes unlike those inside of the fountain. Edges of Papyrus and tall Cypress grass and just touching the colorful water lilies. Ahh, they've just arrived and tied up the horses so they'd be secured, here on top of the hill that overlooks the tiny village but seemingly the town life seems to have come up onto the hill, now the hill is full of life.

Oh, I forgot, the village of 'Somerset' with its old charm, thick thatched rooftops with their upper windows of English Oak, post and doorways too. Peaches, Apples Banana trees. Daffodils, daisies, roses, pansies, gladiolas, and much much more. This is truly Spring, the other seasons will be along shortly. I am here, that's why the village is here. I wanted to come home to 'Somerset' and be buried here in the Spring.

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