8.30 am, a two-jumper Saturday morning, not a breath of wind. The weekly sojourn to the Big Field where the buzzards wheel on invisible thermals.
The sun’s rays beam horizontally through the trees, creating shafts of light through the lifting mist, illuminating a large cloud of recently-hatched midges.
A deep crunchy carpet of spotted, brown leaves underfoot. Raucous calls of pheasants staking out their territory in the field, the occasional lowing of an distant heifer.
Ronnie, my canine companion sniffs interesting scents of Roe Deer, rabbit, perhaps badger, recent fellow pedestrians on this well-trodden trail.
Our weekly workout before the start of a busy weekend in the garden…