The overnight gales offered us a brief respite this morning, during which the
sun was permitted an appearance and the rain lessened. This was not to last, but we were fortunate for a time during which we ventured into the forest.
A dip in the landscape as we head towards Burley from Holmsley Passage, dry until recently has filled with water the surface of which ripples with reflections while fat, pendulous, raindrops slip from the branches above, sending ever increasing circular patterns into play.
Clay Hill is closed to traffic when small birds are nesting among the undergrowth. Today its own pond was fuller than it has been so far this year.
It, too, reflected the surrounding woodland,
containing dripping rose hips.
On the moorland to our left as we drove back down Holmsley Passage, several damp ponies enjoyed a small spot of sunshine, while
a fire on the opposite side of the lane seemed to be a bout of controlled burning of gorse.
This evening we dined on more of Jackie’s pasta Bolognese, this time with stir fried vegetables al dente. I drank more of the Malbec while the Culinary Queen, Flo, and Ellie, all abstained.