April 2014

[Sweder]

An extended plod this morning, nudging the thick end of fifty minutes.
Like heavy revellers that descended on the town overnight the clouds seemed reluctant to leave. I set off through a light veil of cool droplets, feet (knees, hips, saggy bottom, wobbly belly and hunched shoulders) alll very much in the clouds.

I took the Moyleman track up past the stables, turning right at the top of the flint path to head home via the forest. This proved a treacherous trail, slick mizzle over firm mud and part-submerged stone. Small round balls of moss lay like Tribbles on the path. Normally seen clinging to trees, I wondered if they'd come down to frolick in the early light only to be disturbed by my heavy lumbering.

Further on a purple-pink edition of the bluebell - there will be, no doubt, a proper name for this delicate lady of the forest - shone, beautiful in the half-light. I could hear the patter of tiny droplets smacking into leaf, repeated a hundred times a second as the forest shared the rain.

A nice, gentle outing to wave adieu to April. Next stop: Geneva.