Just before Freya came to live with us, I took an evening walk at the Crook o' Lune by myself. These photos have been sat in a post for weeks now, waiting to be written about. I almost deleted the post, but I have that thing that a lot of people have, whereby I can't abandon a thing if it's relatively easy for me to finish it at some point. That's not the same as people who have to finish everything they start. I abandon loads of things that would require too much effort; I told you, I'm inherently lazy. But posts don't take effort – they only take time. I don't really need to write about this walk because it was in a place I've already shown you a bunch of times, but I feel like it deserves to just be on the internets and the worldwidewebs because it will be like it never happened otherwise. Also, now that we've turned the winter corner, we're on our way back to spring, and I've never looked forward to it so much before.
Even though this walk was months ago, I can remember it very clearly. But I can't really remember what thoughts were going through my head at the time, so I think we'll just treat this as a little autumn gallery, to remind us that winter doesn't last forever, and spring is coming in a few short months. And in the spring, we'll be able to see these glorious vistas:
Yes, I do know that we get to see the daylight at the weekends, of course. But I'm being a negative nelly about it, so there.
When's lambing season? I'm looking forward to that with some trepidation now that Freya's here because, well, she's a shepherd, and I'm expecting to be pulled off my feet when she sees whole fields full of vulnerable babies. I'd better get that pulling instinct sorted before then.
On this particular day, all the animals were quite happy for me to walk fairly close to them. That won't ever happen again, eh?!
I always thought these were geese, but I realise they all look like Jemima Puddleduck – so are they geese or ducks? Or was Jemima Puddleduck, in fact, a goose?
Oh, I do remember my thinking at this point. I was not taking a picture here of the top half of a sheep, no. See those trees at the top of the little hill, yonder? And the row of trees along the road just below them? That's Halton Park, where we've walked a few times. The number of times I've walked along the river and not realised that the park was this close. I'm not always very bright, it seems!
River Lune. Smashin'. Let's just look at it for a minute.
I remember it was quite late, near sunset when I went out. I reached the woods and thought about turning back, but once I'm out, I don't really like going home until I'm either tired or in pain. So I went into the woods. When I'm at this bit, and alone, I'm always absolutely certain that I won't freak out and start imagining werewolves and axe murderers.
And even at this bit, just a few yards in, where I can't see the field anymore, I still feel alright, though I perhaps start to glance around me a little more.
This is the point where I wish my eyesight was better and I didn't have to keep blinking to see into the trees – because axe murderers and werewolves, as we all know, hide in the trees, waiting for unsuspecting walkers to turn up after sunset. This is where my imagination goes into overdrive and I jump at little noises like falling acorns, and I usually turn back around now.
And it was no different on this day. In fact, I high-tailed it out of there because there was a cracking and twisting sound that was definitely made by a giant werewolf ripping out a tree by its roots. I got out just in time.
Ahhh, mmm, sunsets. I miss those, very much.
This sheep was very brave indeed!
The jitteriness from the werewolf infested wood tends to come back to me once I've made it across the field and almost to the bridge, because there's another little bit of wood to get through. This wood doesn't have werewolves, but I'm sure it's got demons.
See? There must be all manner of evil things lurking in there, but I have to go through it to get back to the car. And the carpark is definitely a dogging site. I don't know why I come here at night, I really don't!
Actually, I do. I come here for that view. Glorious, even in the dark.
Until later, when we will be leaping forward in time to the middle of December. What fun!
WQ
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