Saturday 25 November 2017

Brockis Hill

Today is a perfect end of autumn day. The air is chill and clean, but for occasional whiffs of wood smoke which drifted though the stands, cementing the sense of autumns end and winters swift approach. It's not too cold, mind, frequently old Sol is free of cloud, and still has enough strength to cast out a warming glow. It's quiet too. Jobs done, and shop closed for the winter break, for the most part the forests critters are resting. Not the squirrels though, they're still darting about. The canopies to are also quiet, with their leaves now grounded, the tree tops sway in silence. It's lovely walking, difficult under foot, though lovely. This part of the forest is wet, even the leaf carpeted woodland is wet under foot, and you'll be walking 3 or 4 inches below what looks like the surface. It makes for a lot of slipping and sliding. The sun is nearing the horizon as I walk back, a dirty looking cloud drops it's load lightly. 'A fox's riddle, and a monkey's dance' is what my mother used to say when the sun shone and it was raining at the same time. I've always remembered it, and wondered about it's meaning. Metaphors for the juxtaposition of conditions, and the mischief it suggests, I'd imagine. 

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