Right then, we're officially into 'Linda needs a kick up the backside to find the energy to keep walking' territory. And since the 2020 Busy Period starts at work on Monday, things are only going to get worse for a month. I've got lots of energy for work, but at the end of the day, the body wants to turn into a jelly and slide down into its comfy spot on the couch to watch its beloved Downton Abbey or Poldark.
I've got a bunch of walks ready to write about from this week, photos already primed and uploaded, so I'm going to try to catch up today and tomorrow. Here we go!
So, I've got a gigantic new water bottle. You might have seen them in Asda and thought, who the hell needs a water bottle that size? Well, it turns out that I do. I also need a bottle with a handle because carrying a backpack just for water is really annoying. And this water bottle with a handle can be used like a dumbbell as well, so there's a small chance that it might prove beneficial to my increasingly flabby arms.
Anyway, a few days ago, you'll recall that it was hot, so I set off for a walk with Matthew and this giant water bottle. I'm sorry to have to tell you that we just went to the Favourite Place again, which I know you'll be getting sick of, but I promise to cut these visits down a bit and find some new places. In fact, I've already started to keep a list and I have three weeks of walks planned, on the understanding with myself that, if I don't feel like going where I've planned one day, I'm not allowed to stay in and can only swap with another day.
You'll have seen these out and about, eh? Acorns. If I hadn't learnt the shape of oak leaves, I'd have known oaks by these, of course. Everyone knows acorns come from oak trees. I must have seen them attached to the tree before, but I don't remember. This was an awesome moment the other day because I just thought these were beautiful. Aren't they beautiful? I'm put in mind suddenly of a book from my teeny years of an anthropomorphised animal of some kind using acorns as teacups, but I can't think which book it was. Would it be a Beatrix Potter? Maybe a Brambley Hedge. Ohhhhhh, hang on, I have to go and Google Brambley Hedge teasets...
I'm all nostalgic today. Every time I walk down Powder House Lane, past the cricket club, I think of Downton Abbey. This is because Downton is my only experience of cricket – there's a cricket match in one episode, and that's it. That's all I know. It must be quite good though, cricket, because there are people playing here all the time. I think this was a Thursday and there was a match going on – that's how much they love it. The people at the rugby club across the road don't play on random evenings, so I suppose they don't love their sport as much.
The hedgerow down the lane has been cut on only one side. This tells me that we were walking on the wrong side, which I should've realised instead of throwing Matthew and myself into the nettles when a car approached. Of course, I know you're supposed to walk facing the oncoming traffic when you're out in the countryside, but it's so narrow here that it doesn't really make a difference.
We trotted along Jack Sparrow Lane, and I had a notion to look for the little tower of stones that I built here last time I came, with James. I didn't think it would be that difficult to find on the gravel path because it's not a very long path. I didn't find it because, who'd've thought it, it's quite difficult to tell one stone from another on a gravel path, but I have a photo of it, and there's one distinct stone that I think I can find given enough time. And I have lots of time – if it's the last thing I do, I will precisely recreate the little tower of stones. I don't know why; it's just something I've decided to do, a little mission, if you will. Because I'm quite odd.
Look at our corn! Oooooh, it's got ears and everything now! The reddish spiky bits at the top look like seeds... Where would I be without Google? I've just found out that the reddish thing is called the tassel, and it holds the pollen. Without it, the plant won't be pollinated and the ears won't grow. How completely fascinating.
Obviously, these tassels have done their job because there are ears starting to grow, as you can see. I've given you two corn pictures today, just because I think it's gorgeous. Let's just admire it for a minute. Ahh, lovely.
You know the route to the bench by now. We tramped up the hill as quickly as we could. It's not getting any easier, but that's alright. Perhaps it never will, but that doesn't mean I'll let it defeat me.
What I'm showing you here is the tracks that have been cut into the gravel by the rain during the storms last week. There were little channels like this all the way up the hill. I wondered if they might have been lightning strikes, but they looked too straight, and also I have no idea if lightning does this.
Look what happened to the muck-spreaded field. Whoever would have guessed that when we smelled the poo five months ago, it was so the farmer could grow his grass to turn into sillage? Probably all of you because you know much more about countryside things than I do. You're all very clever.
We saw a Royal Mail train. It was very pretty indeed. Just thought you might like to see it.
Next on our adventure, Matthew turned to me and said, 'look, I'm very fancy.' Then he lifted his little finger and drank his tea from the new cup from our new Thermos flask. Quite fancy.
We stayed on our bench for a while, discussing the merits of our new flask, wishing that it had come in any colour other than 1980s-school-uniform blue because that's the most boring colour in the world when it comes to vessels that hold liquids. Matthew would've liked a nice light-turquoise flask, and I might have chosen a yellow one because I feel that yellow gets neglected as a favourite colour.
Eventually, our stomachs decided it was time to go, again, and we chose different paths. I think our choices reflect our different personalities. Matthew likes to dance down a nice winding but trustworthy path, whereas I like to walk in the long grass and risk taking home a few ticks. I haven't attracted any for ages, but I do now know that daddy longlegs live in long grass.
Now that I know what a mountain ash looks like in the summer, I've noticed that they're absolutely everywhere! You probably already knew they were, but this is a new thing for me. They're very pretty, and I just hope I will recognise them by their leaf shape when the berries have all gone.
Well I never. I've just read that it keeps its berries throughout the winter but loses its leaves. This is going to make things interesting! I'll look forward to seeing this, very much.
We took the path through the Hundred Acre Wood. Here we had a disagreement as Matthew insists that this way is quicker, whereas I am sure that it is not. But thinking about it, both ways are probably the same. Doesn't really matter anyway, it's just that Matthew likes to be home in five minutes once he's reached the halfway point, whereas I like to make the walk last as long as energy allows.
We couldn't identify these fruits. They weren't apples – too soft looking – and they weren't plums – too hard looking. I don't know if we'll find out because our next two weeks of walks don't take us through here, so we might miss them at their ripest. Hope not.
Here's what the wood looked like today. We chatted about whether this is a young wood, which it is because all the trees are still spindley and not particularly tall. I don't know how long it's been here, but if we're talking relatively and compared to the Amazon rainforest, then it's a young wood. When woods get older, I wonder if all of this undergrowth stuff dies down, never to grow again because it can't get any light. I don't suppose we'll be around long enough to see that.
Hell's teeth, I keep doing that! Terrifying myself with thoughts of the age of the universe and our very short time in it. I got a bit depressed for half an hour the other day when I heard someone on YouTube talking about the heat death of the universe. Don't Google that – it's not cheery at all.
And here is the celestial object that will one day engulf the earth in it's red-hot and dying embrace. It looked like it was getting ready to do that this week, actually.
More adventures tomorrow. I'm off to dream about floating through space, set adrift from my spacecraft, unable to propel myself in any direction, knowing that my air will run out within hours. I wonder if it's a peaceful death.
Sweet dreams, dear ones!
WQ
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