Autumnal fecundity and inner otter issues

It has been, I have to say,  a full on day. Now, as an already wet and driech day slides in to a wet and dismal evening - I am glad to be sitting down in front of the fire with a cat sprawled out like a molten furry jelly on the carpet. The radio is barely on and the sounds of the homeward bound traffic rumble like distant grumbly-thunder.

Yesterday was lovely. Just him and I (and the dog), our walking boots, a set of clues and a packed lunch - we walked and laughed and talked about everything and nothing - and we agreed that this was how it was before we had children.

The cool damp meadows above Grassington

The narrowest bridleway I have ever seen.

I'd not take a horse through this - even a giraffe would have to

walk with all four legs in single file, never mind

a barrel bodied horse breathing in! 

Our super fast, slim-jim dizzy dog thought 

that dashing along this slinky path was brilliant.

The abundance of fungi was impressive,

there seemed to be cascades of gilled fleshy plates

on nearly every stump or decaying tree trunk.

There were flashes of brilliant colour amidst the softer

damp autumnal foliage.

One of our party was determined to test out

every puddle, river, pond, ditch or stream.

We think her inner otter got the better of her.

 Trees baring fruit seemed laden,

hedgerows full of bright berries glistening in the low light.

 

And one last final image,

a walking party of mature adults, I say mature,

I am referring to only their ages

because we were delighted to watch

as two of them grabbed the bridge and began rocking it

making the rest of the party

squeal, chortle and totter as if they'd just stumbled straight out of the pub.

Himself and I were greatly amused

and agreed that we will stay as youthful as that!