Flossie and I walked this morning, to rid me of a thumping headache, up up up onto the moor, me puffing and panting on the steep bits (“So unfit! must do this more often”) and complaining about my knees on the downhill bits, Flossie running, jumping, snuffling, without a care in the world, heedless of slopes, of stony tracks, of muddy stretches. We could see the town spread below us in sunshine, the Bristol Channel vivid blue for once, and Wales gleaming across the water. Standing for a few minutes, catching my breath, I could hear nothing at all. Down through the woods, the birds sang and rustled, and Flossie, never elegant, galumphed joyfully, crashing through the browning bracken and fallen leaves.
She found a little rough shelter, and I found some fly agaric (amanita muscaria); scenes from a fairy tale.
There would have been more pictures, if I’d had a camera rather than my tatty old phone, and maybe my specs…..
On the path home, a buzzard circled slowly, silently, so close to us that I could discern its individual wing feathers, then began to rise on the thermals until it became a speck in the blue sky and the birds began singing again.
It was unseasonably, wonderfully warm in the sunshine, and my headache was gone. This is a wonderful place in which to live.