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
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lots of partridges, for shooting, alas |
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will we get to that distant building before the next squall hits us? Nope |
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a siskin! |
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even more weather heading towards us. Youo'll have to imagine the rolling thunder |
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lots of hail |
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that was handy, a nice table for eating our lunch |
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there was lots of looking out of doors, as well as the looking in bit |
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a mole joins in the art with this shameless rip-off of a Richard Long idea |
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this room was decorated with the local mud, just as I was about to be |
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this is indeed a hanging stone |
Thanks for sharing the images of the day.
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