There was a definite nip in the air as I ran this morning. Fallen leaves littered the damp grass and I wished I’d worn a long sleeved shirt.
I planned a flat(ish) run down a main road – a fairly rural main road with views, but still busy in the morning rush. Instead, on a whim, I turned into the woods and found myself here.
This is ten minutes walk from my house, and I often forget it exists. There’s a bench here, and sometimes I sit, but usually I’m running and my visits are brief.
I’ve taken pictures of this view in many seasons, covered with snow, baked in sunshine, and with bare trees and smoke rising from bonfires. Today it was poised between summer and autumn, bright sunshine and trees still green, but longer shadows and a slight low mist.
I love this time of year.
I wonder how it’s possible that I forget to come to this place. It’s so close, yet not on the way to anywhere in particular. There’s long grass and footpaths and I’m not always dressed for mud. I can’t buy milk, or catch a bus. Maybe if there was a back on the bench I’d be tempted to linger and read for a while.
Looking at this view I forgot the unweildy hedge that plagued my conscience at 6am. I forgot the boxes that are destined for the charity shop. I forgot the parcels that need posting, clothes that need washing, plumbers that need calling.
I forgot to worry.
Today I promised myself that I would come here more often. Not every day, maybe not even ever week, but sometimes, and not just as a surprise.