Countryside scenes...
Can you see her?

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Woodpecker.
Can you spy the bird?
Stealthy as I tried to be, it clocked us before I could find a clear shot.



Usually herons take flight when they see me but this one didn't flinch and it crossed my mind that it could be a statue.
Pretty sure this IS fleabane although after the other day, I am still perplexed as to which is which (or how they differ)

Thingy.
Horseradish! We see this all the time. The roots spread.
Lovely lane walking.

Take care,
Sophie

When the fog rolls in...
Sometimes you wake up in the morning and the fog has rolled in overnight; as dawn breaks and the sun tries to rise above the horizon it struggles to be seen at all. The thick, dense white gloop hangs miserably in the air, without strings or props; it just silently lingers. No questions asked. Things go slow; time falters and stutters in the curious dull circumstances. Sounds change and muffle. My voice sounds louder; traffic sounds more distant, nay, almost non existent. Can the sun burn through the gloom? Will we shield our eyes from the brightness once more? Will we cast shadows in our wake? Will the burning ball in the sky warm our bones once more? Our hearts?
Sophie

Atmosphere.

Isn't it fascinating how the atmosphere can completely change how it feels to be somewhere?

The gloom, the mist, the sun stifled behind.

The sight of the Priory cloaked in the freezing fog was something that will stay with me.

Sophie