Sherlock and I headed for the woods today. Crossing the mill leat we could hear the river Otter thundering over the weir after last nights heavy rain. We paused at the weir to watch the tumbling water; coloured alluvium grey whilst in the margins a cappuccino coloured froth bobbed along with the flotsam. Our nostrils filled with the smell of silt and wet woodland. Sherlock for once declined the chance to have a dip in the pool above the weir.
Heading away from the torrent we ascended the path up through the woods. Most of the trees still defiantly green. This due to the continuation of unseasonably warm weather. A stubborn summer refusing to succumb. Only the beech trees were just beginning to show a burnished tinge of autumn. The slope upwards was made more precarious for my rickety knees as it was covered with a carpet of beech nuts, acorns and wet leaves. Sherlock always waits at the top- or bottom of these “marble runs” (depending on which direction that I am stumbling,) hoping he can have a canine smirk at my expense.
Several more of these treacherous (well to me anyway) marble runs are scattered along our walk. One I have named “The Slide” This one is a favourite of Sherlock’s. Here he waits for me to start my decent before then racing past me- knocking in to my legs in the process as I cling to the wobbly hand rail and curse him.
My family’s probable favourite is the one I now call “Style it out!” Who the hell decided to put a stile at the top of a slope? Here I once managed a spectacular face-plant to a chorus of “You got away with that,” followed by raucous family laughter and yes- an obligatory canine smirk!
Today’s stroll was remarkably and thankfully uneventful on the tumbling front. The only thing seen to fall was the occasional side plate sized sycamore leaf as it cartwheeled in slow motion to the ground. Autumn has called.
Simon Harlond 