Even the recent run of storms has not blown off this little clump of last year’s leaves. Today, on the other hand, was a first real inkling of spring sunshine and relative warmth. I already know it doesn’t last, though. But there’ll be more, eventually.
An early start for me on this Sunday morning, for a walk that bagged me the County Tops of Kent and Greater London (which are very close together in case that sounds like a more significant expedition than it was). Not a great walk scenically, but redeemed by the sight of four deer in the woods. You try capturing these guys on camera, particularly if they know you’re there, which this one clearly does — but he tolerated my efforts for just long enough before scooting away to rejoin his gang.
There have been a few of these down the years. If the owner — or the parent of the owner — wants to retrieve it, it’s up in Nutclough Woods, near the water race. Though it’s always puzzled me how someone can just lose one boot or shoe, at least, when one is out and about.
Communicating by carving a message into a tree is known as ‘blazing’ — something I only found out immediately before posting this, thanks to the ever-fascinating Wikipedia. The most famous blazed tree is probably one in Queensland, where a message was left in 1861 for a party of explorers that was never found. I doubt this one, on the path from Hebden Bridge to Mytholmroyd, is as significant in historical terms, but obviously it meant something to someone at the time. And, thanks to this post, to me too, here and now.
This trip down to London also offered the chance to pick up a County Top (see the other blog); specifically Bushey Heath, the highest point in the historic county of Middlesex, swallowed up by London in 1965 although at least it still retains a county cricket team. It wasn’t major mountaineering, though. Clare here strolls through the woods near Bentley Priory (an ecclesiastical relic? no, a premium housing estate) in one of those shots that chews up the bandwidth thanks to all the foliage.
Out on the path through the woods above the Hebden Water, someone has been dressing the trees, guerrilla-style. Happy Christmas to them, and, indeed, to you. I hope you enjoyed the day in whatever way you saw most fit. But that is, of course, true of every day.
According to my diary today was the ‘first day of autumn’, but although it was rather windy, summer seems to still be with us for now. I liked this tree for its two-pronged appearance, like a couple of arms reaching out over the path, in the woods near Mytholmroyd.
Time for a forage….. No, I’m not telling you exactly where this stash is. Somewhere in Hebden Bridge. I will say no more.
No, I won’t do it. I won’t stay cowering at home, plugged into the Matrix and denied the world outside. My physical and mental health — the things we’re supposed to care about, right? — these are too important. And most of the woods and parks that I am frequenting are pretty busy with other people, suggesting that these souls, at least, have taken the same decision. It is not for the gaggle of failed journalists and lobbyists for the tobacco industry who got themselves elected about a year ago to tell us what is healthy and what is not.
Who doesn’t love the colours in autumn, a last hurrah before the greyness of winter. I like the remaining green on this shot and the sinuous branch, with its two duck-heads.
Not pictured on this shot: vast numbers of people. The woods of Hardcastle Crags were heaving today. Because, if you take away other normal weekend entertainments, people will do what they must in order to stay physically and mentally healthy, which is to get out of the house to wherever is available. Thus, congregating closer together than they would otherwise have done, and defeating the object of this latest stupid, mindless, arbitrary attempt at social control.
Being 42 