Drifting mists

Saturday was a strange soft grey translucent sort of day. 

Where views were pale and wistful while distant horizons were mere hints of their normal bulk.

Hill tops seemed to levitate above a faded village barely visible through the shifting mists.

As try as it might, the sun only managed to splash a little soft light on the undersides of the cloud 

as it sank behind the moorland hills.

We stopped at our local waterfall - a tall spout which crashes into a decently deep pool.

Perfect for a little autumnal dip (if you are a dilly dog that is .....)

We stopped a while, drank tea and quietly nibbled fruit cake. 

The crash of the water into the pool was the only sound, even the birds seemed muted.

That sign amused us - it seemed to blend in perfectly with our walk - a gentle, quiet one 

where only the crunch of our boots, the splash of the pool 

and the distant sound of the occasional bird song,

all good soothing sounds - the perfect contrast to the madness of the outside world.

 

 

And as we turned off the moor road - I looked back.

Time to go home, warm up and put the kettle on - xx