On a whim, we went out, we had planned to stay home this weekend, do a few chores, bit of gardening, keep the cats and the house company. But the cats went out, the garden promised to wait and Zeb was calling.
We packed light, only intending it to be a day's walking, taking food and warm clothing and (
on a just-in-case basis) I slipped our toothbrushes and a change of clothing into the van. If the evening turned out to be beautiful and wild, we may just linger longer and find somewhere to stay.
The forecast had it for sunny all day with the very occasional and probably miles away showers. So we just jumped into the cab and pointed Zeb to the hills, following his nose and stopping where he took us. There was light rain on the windscreen, but it did not matter, we were off on a micro-adventure with a bit of a devil may care feel in the air!
As we parked up, the heavy clouds massing slowly above our heads could no longer hold their load. We only just managed to close the door behind us as a sharp shower thundered down. It did not matter - we had the kettle on, we were warm and dry and while we curled our fingers around far too hot mugs, we watched as the view slowly began to clear.
Boots and coats, hats and scarves firmly attached, we stepped out of a dripping wet van into the most sublime lemon yellow light with scudding grey and white clouds. Moss could not be more excited, leaning forward into her lead, nose forward and ears alert.
Our trail, one we have walked for years, brings back so many memories. The one that is the most vivid is of a walk before Youngest was born although he was there with us. Eldest was barely two and a half and we'd not been living in the uk for long. I was sorely missing my African home and very uncomfortably and heavily pregnant. We walked up the drovers track, into the woodland and through the small but beautiful wildflower meadow. A small Eldest ran ahead, his face beaming and his blonde hair ruffling in the breeze. We sat, the three (four) of us, Eldest sharing an orange with me as we looked over the view. Seems such a long time ago - yet with a blink it was only yesterday.
Our present walk took us through the same woodland, we had been watching the horizon with one eye as the sky was darkening and seemed to be rolling towards us again. We sheltered in the trees, listening to the rain dashing against the leaves while we were just lightly spattered. It was a rather special feeling, listening to the deluge around us, watching through the branches as the sky changed colour, hearing the wind tearing through the leaves whilst we were dry and protected.
Then, as quickly as it arrived, the rain left and for one glorious moment or two, a rich flash of sunshine. The rainbow, fleeting, was beautiful as was it's softer pastel shaded second bow.
Our return to the van was a mix of gentle sun slipping through the heavy grey wash of clouds, the colours muted with spots of brilliance. Stripping off the wet coats and boots, rubbing Moss dry and feeding her we decided that as much as we would love to stay, the call of the house, a warm and crackling fire with the cats was greater. So we jumped into the cab, drove Zeb to another spot with a far reaching view and ate whilst we watched shower after shower race across the distant valley and surrounding hills before setting off for home.
Often the not planned-plans are the best. The simple pleasure of walking, good company, a dilly dog and the delight of returning to the van, putting on the kettle and wrapping chilled hands around a steaming mug - bliss.
Sunday will be the day for gardening and the cats - I promise!
