Then it was Friday ...

Friday was warm.

Sultry and sunny.

As we ate breakfast we stared at the profile of distant ruins on the horizon. We'd spotted them the evening before. Large and foreboding, even by the naked eye.  (In the above photo it is the small 'bump' on the horizon just left of the large tree in the foreground)

I zoomed in with my camera and knew we had to investigate. 

 

Breakfast eaten, washed up and put away, lunch packed, water and flasks filled, boots on and the hills calling. Moss was ready and so were we.

En route we visited a small church with a lot of history. It was seeping out of the stones, although on a small but busy road, once inside it was cool and quiet. The air gently teasing tendrils of scent from lilies, chrysanthemums and small white roses.

Moss, keen to walk, was (almost) patiently waiting for us as we stepped out of this still oasis back into the muggy hot day. Our route very quickly took us into another sacred space - this one green and damp...

...and filled with streams for Moss and scents of a different kind - warm tree breath, damp soil, the cool draft of air above the moving water, fresh green moss, heady fern, the sweet sharp smell of grass. Sounds changed too - from traffic to bird song and the whisper of leaves in the light breeze. 

All too soon the delicious woodland path burst out on to meadowlands - hot and airless. Flying ants lazily zig-zagged around our faces however, they did not land on us. It was a relief to all three, when we reached the end and fell into a small copse with a babbling stream cheerfully crossing through.

Moss could not have been more delighted and immersed herself, transforming into an otter with a wag of her tail. 

It took a bit of persuading to leave this little oasis and continue upwards but as we climbed the air cooled and a wonderful breeze picked up. The ruins did not disappoint. 

Not as brooding as we first thought we explored the stones and looked at the amazing views.  Then we sat alongside the ruins for our lunch - contemplating it's history, debating and discussing and imagining it's past. There was even a little silliness to be had - now I know what 'Santa' wears in summer......

 We eventually tore ourselves away, following the old route from the hall over the hill and down into the valley. Where old saw mills still worked, with piles of logs and slices of wood piled high. Again scent swirled around us, this time, resin and wood, smoke and dried leaves, damp corners and dry sawdust - a delicious combination.

We continued along an old track, tracing the edge between a long woodland and working fields. It wound it's way down to the river, so we stopped and Moss immediately plunged in, her inner otter taking over once again.

Over seven hot and wonderful miles, we returned to Zeb. Hungry, thirsty, tired but really really happy.

With Moss fed and watered, I cooked us a risotto then we sat eating as we watched a happy woof resting on the grass.

Another lovely day .... another early night. We had one more day before heading home.

More to follow soon ....  xxx