The winds of change

A sharp breeze, one that slaps cheeks and grabs coats, accompanied us on our walk on Saturday. We'd gone up to Lancaster with a van load of things for Youngest as he returns to uni. We hold our breath while we hope the panic-lockdown of students does not rear its ugly head here. Youngest and gf are both student reps this year, assigned a house of students to watch over with all contact via zoom and cellphones. We left them with dire warnings of making sure they have sufficient supplies to last should things change.

Cold fingers and necks wrapped up in woolly cosiness, hats pulled on for good measure and coats pulled tight, we stepped out of the van, up a small and busy lane then turned off the road into a field full of young beef-stock. They lifted their heads from grazing and watched but soon became disinterested. Only one seemed more alert and watched us closely as we passed by. I, for years, felt stock-sure enough to be able to deal with fields of cows but after a couple of heart stoppingly uncomfortable near-moments - I have realised my own mortality and have become wary. 

We were not the only ones out in the buffeting cold autumnal breeze. A small gathering of swallows were chattering and preening overhead. They were certainly congregating and making plans to find warmer climes. I shall miss them.

The paths were quiet, very few walkers about. 

The odd fisherman - and yes I really do mean 'odd', with a pike in the net and hysterical laughter. We politely admired his catch and moved on. 

The very dapper couple, he with his goatie and waxed mustachio, bowtie and cream cords and she in a floral dress, black leggings and striking shock of brick red and steel grey hair. They were on bikes and wore chest wide beaming grins as we passed them - they just glowed happiness.

A couple of family groups with dogs - all observing the CV19 distance, all smiling and cheery.    A lovely change from some of the more surly walkers we seem to have met more recently.

As ever, Moss delighted in every sniff, every stick and every spot she could get down to the water. We stopped for a break on a longboat mooring and watched squirrels bouncing up through grass, birds and the last of the season's butterflies as we drank tea and ate fruit cake.

Considering how near to a city we were, it was remarkably quiet, the only noise was the light aircraft circling the sky disgorging parachutists at regular intervals.

It was late afternoon by the time we returned to the van. Moss was towelled dry, fed and wrapped up to keep warm - the breeze had taken on a sharper note - and bundled up into her bed. Kettle on and brittle hands wrapped around hot mugs felt good.

The sun, mostly hidden behind cloud during the day began to drop below the now dissipating thick layer of grey. The sky lit up.  From within the van, we sheltered from the breeze and watched the sun and the sky become alive as they changed colours, deepened and intensified.

I cooked and we ate in virtual silence except for the occasional intake of breath at the beauty or a whispered comment to each other as we took photos or just witnessed the sunset.

As the sun vanished below the horizon, the temperature dropped rapidly. We put away our plates, tidied the back of the van and climbed into the cab. Moss had been fast asleep and watched us through bleary dog eyes as we buckled up and set off. We took the long way round - I think I smiled for most of it.

Thank you everyone for joining or commenting on or even just reading our posts of September's Scavenger Photo Hunt. October's words will pop up soon so definitely keep an eye out for them.

Until then - I hope the sunsets where you are, are as heart breathtakingly beautiful - blessings be xxx