New paintings and regular art updates.
I actually walked a reasonable distance today, about two miles up a steep hill, down a steep hill and along the main road. On the way I walked past this triffid growing out over the pavement.
I have not been out for a walk since March!
Well I got dragged out by a friend that walks miles every day. It made me realise I can do it. I just need to make the effort. But for now my knees and ankles ache. And I fell asleep when I got in. But it was worth the effort.
X
Don’t worry I said, I know where I’m going… We walked up one moorland fell and down into the valley of the next. Walking on tussock grass was hard on the legs, each lump was seperate from the next. The ground was springy with matted sphagnum moss as well.
The sun was getting lower in the sky. The path was hard to follow, and I was getting nervous. We hadn’t seen anyone in our travels and I could not see the road that led to our destination. Matt had parked his car next to a pub on the moorland road and we were heading vaguely west towards the setting sun.
It was then that Matt had the brilliant idea of looking at the map. He’d not bothered earlier, but now it was getting late and drinking time was running out. We all peered over the map, Matt muttered something as he looked over it. What did you say? I asked. Just follow the cat he laughed. There laid out in front of us was a dotted line, following the contours of the fells. Definitely cat shaped. And as I looked I could see the pub marked just where its up raised paw was swiping at the string, the line that indicated the road!
Matt laughed. We’ll be there in ten minutes. Cheers I said. Let’s go.
Photo taken by my friend who went for a walk with my hubby yesterday. The Trent and Mersey canal. Near Middleport pottery heading south west along the canal. He saw a group of swans swimming along the canal. There are apparently Carp, Roach and Pike in that section of the canal.
He actually walked thirteen miles! A half marathon. He’s feeling it today. I’m impressed and amazed. I’m afraid a mile is enough for me. I think I need to do more exercise and seeing the photos I’m jealous of the walk he did.
X
My hubby went out with his remote control boat today. He took it to the boating lake in the park. This park is beautifully tended with floral borders and a restored boat house.
I wish I’d gone, but I was busy sorting things out as we are having to get a new washing machine. The old one has finally given up. The thing works but it keeps coming up with error messages. E8, E9. Don’t know what they mean but it’s stopping it finishing the programmes. I can only get it to work on one, 30 minutes 30 degrees…
But what’s this got to do with parks? Only that I didn’t go on a walk. They did about ten miles. I wish I was fit enough to do it. Humph!
X
The year is passing, the last time I went for a proper walk was back in February. We’d started doing weekly walks, just a mile or so. But it made me feel fitter. Then March came and the sudden lockdown. Oh I’ve been shopping, and done a few visits in the car. But I’m bothered about going to where we used to walk as it’s very popular. My health isn’t good and I really, really can’t afford to get ill. I know this will have a detrimental effect on my strength, but what else can I do? Luckily I have the garden, I can cut things back and tidy things up. I can do housework…… But I miss my walks..
Monets’ painting of a poppy field is such a ubiquitous image, but beautiful nonetheless. The figures at the top of the hill are the same couple at the bottom of the hill, though I doubt that he painted so quickly that he managed to paint the rest of the picture by the time they had walked down the hill.
The trees in the background and the house set at the back of the field frame a beautiful summers day. It always seems so calm and peaceful when I look at it. I feel joyful and relaxed, thinking of glimpsing a view like that in Devon or Yorkshire. I know many wildflower meadows have gone, but maybe we will restore more of them in the future so people can enjoy walking through them again.
We just went to a talk about Iceland by our friend Ivan. He had spent several days on the Island following trails around an area about the size of North Wales and near the capital Reykjavik. I’m sorry but I didn’t take the names of the places he visited but it was bleak and beautiful. Ice was melting in the summer sun and there were several places which were called snow bridges which would collapse under a person’s weight. These were over deep holes and hollows where the packed snow had melted underneath.
Ivan also played video of the landscape including geysers where boiling water was thrown up fifty feet into the air. Steam rose from fumerols and there were plants where power was generated from geothermal energy. Throughout his trip he made friends, camped out, and took beautiful photos. We were lucky to win one of them in a raffle he held. The Penkhull Mystery plays are to be the recipient of any money he collected. A great evening out.
On a perfect autumn day the wood looked enticing. The leaves had turned crimson from the frosts and a soft mist was flowing down the hill from it.
Susan was walking along the path between her bungalow and the village a couple of miles away. She wanted a paper and some milk, but she had time so she decided to take a detour. The sun was bright and low, and as she was walking due East it was shining into her eyes. A quick few steps upwards and she entered the skirts of the forest. As with many managed woods the outside was deciduous but then there were pines and larch and other evergreens inside it, the trunks growing close knit, the shade deepening the further she looked inwards.
Susan had walked half a mile through the crimson leaves, enjoying the autumn colour, when she was stopped by a fence, it was wooden with barbed wire across the top. No entry signs were fastened to it with metal clips. More worryingly there were other signs saying danger of electrocution. Where had it come from? She’d walked this way last week and there had just been the path across the field. She could not go on, but turned right and wove her way a bit further into the wood, hoping there would be an end to it. Perhaps it would turn a corner and allow her to make her way?
As she moved along the fence she heard squawking, like a flock of geese? In a wood? The ground on the other side of the fence looked trampled and worn down. The bird sounds got louder. Suddenly she came out into a clearing. The Geese were there. Giant Geese, huge, eight or nine foot tall! She felt scared and didn’t know what to do. Just walk backwards she thought, be quiet and back away from the Geese. She had managed to duck the problem!
A thick fog was hanging over the land, damp and white and still. We had been on a walk over bthe moors, my boots were sodden, my glasses had puddles in them. The tussock grass made for hard walking, trying to hop from tussock to tussock, often ending ankle deep in the murky water between the tussocks.
Now we had come to a stony path, but it wound up and down with no obvious way signs to show us where we were. Neither of us had a compass, and with this fog you could not tell East from West. The sun was invisible in the murk but it was getting colder and later. It must be five o’clock at least.
Suddenly we heard a mew, then another one. A cat appeared out of the billowing fog.
I leant down and stroked its ears, hello kitty I said, where’s home? Where did you come from?
The cat twitched it’s tail, and rubbed it’s head against my hand. It miaowed. Then it trotted off a little way, sat down and looked back towards us.
Shall we? he said, shall we follow it? What else can we do, we aren’t going to easily find our way back to the car.
By now the cat was standing and mewed again. Come on I said, before it disappears.
The cat started trotting off again, stopping and looking back every few yards. We followed, trying to keep it in sight through the mist and lowering light levels.
The cat left the path and jumped up onto a stile, dropping down the other side into the gloom. Well, we thought, let’s try.
Over a pasture and through a shallow stream, the cat jumping across stepping stones. Up a slight slope and into a patch of old oak trees.
Suddenly a wall loomed out of the thick fog. Spider webs wet with droplets of water.
A farm house, the cat walked to to the front door and scratched at it. Then it jumped up on a box and climbed in through an open window. We knocked on the front door and waited…..
We are just back from delivering leaflets house to house in the rain. Storm Freya is due to arrive in the next couple of hours. I was going to deliver them earlier in the week but I’m still not well.
What could be more comforting than fish finger sandwiches with a steaming cup of (decaff) coffee.
We didn’t quite finish the route and came home soaking wet. There is nothing much worse than rain getting through the seams of your coat, cold water trickling down your neck and the rain running off a waterproof coat and down onto your trouser legs. Add wet socks from crossing big puddles, wet hair and raindrops on your glasses and you get a picture of how I felt half an hour ago.
The fish finger sandwiches, with brown bread and butter and mayonnaise were very tasty. If I had taken more time I would have added sliced lemon and a few salad leaves but I just wanted something warm and tasty and quick.
Meanwhile the wind is gusting, the rain is hitting the windows. I can hear the wind blowing through a gap round the window and moaning slightly. It’s two hours before sunset but the world very dark and overcast. I might just have a nap.
Mallaband-Brown