getting horsedrawn narrowboats under Newbury Bridge

 The town bridge in Newbury, built over the River Kennet, pre-dates the building of the lock that was the first to be built on the link between the Kennet and the Avon. So there is no towpath under the bridge; and horsedrawn boats going upstream would have to pull in before the bridge, the horse led round the path to the other side, then the towline drifted down to the waiting boat using this float. 

The float's now in the canal museum on Devizes Wharf, where I saw it, and thought it would make a good subject for a picture.

walking round Andy Goldsworthy's Hanging Stones in the Rosedale valley

On Thursday, we went up to the North Yorks Moors for a bimble around the Rosedale valley, where some Andy Goldsworthy works have been installed in old buildings in a six mile circuit.

Sunlight and rainclouds were chasing each other across the hills, and thunder rumbled to north and south; and we were hit by sudden squalls of hail and rain, but managed to sit most of them out in the buildings on the trail. There was decidedly lots of weather.

It was good to be back among northern hills again; it's been a long time since I've walked in heather and bilberry, and had grouse fly away grumbling "go back, go back". The working of the landscape and the stone of the walls and buildings was as interesting (to me anyway) as the sculptures, tbh.

Towards the end, I managed to slip on a bank and get horribly muddy, and had to wash off my skirt and coat with a tuft of grass dipped in the stream, which still ran red with the iron that was once mined here. 

I left the mud on the rucsac, though, to remember the day by

lots of partridges, for shooting, alas

will we get to that distant building before the next squall hits us? Nope

a siskin!

even more weather heading towards us. Youo'll have to imagine the rolling thunder

lots of hail

that was handy, a nice table for eating our lunch

there was lots of looking out of doors, as well as the looking in bit

a mole joins in the art with this shameless rip-off of a Richard Long idea

this room was decorated with the local mud, just as I was about to be

this is indeed a hanging stone

 

a Flycatcher at Wootton Rivers

Moored up above Heathy Close lock, at Wootton Rivers, east of Pewsey, we watched a flycatcher dashing out from its perch in a tall ash tree, to grab insects out of the air, then return to its perch, easily identifiable by its upright posture and startlingly big eyes, like the dogs in The Tinderbox. The first time I saw one (flycatcher, not supernatural dog) was on a still and misty autumn morning when it was perched across the canal from me, and it spooked me rather. 

In the background is a grey wagtail, about to snaffle a banded demoiselle. And a Southern Hawker dragonfly bumbling by. Our boaty neighbours rescued a pair of these dragonflies from the canal, but they died anyway, and I collected them for reference. 

...but they went black shortly after. Too late, I read that their bright colouring is maintained by some sort of active biological process. Keen bughunters do thing like killing them quickly and dropping them in acetone, or other such things that I've neither the resources nor inclination to do.

Anyway, it all makes a good subject for this picture, which will hopefully be one of twelve for next year's calendar if I pull my finger out. 

Easily distracted, though; I've been out foraging elderberries, for making cordial. It's very late in the season for them; some trees are completely gone over, and the unpicked clusters of berries are shrivelled and hanging limply. But I found one tree that was still only just past the peak of fruitfulness, and it yielded over 2 lb of berries, which, when boiled up with enough water to cover, and some mace and cloves thrown in, yielded 2 pints of juice. Very cheerful stuff, and good for keeping lurgies at bay.