It’s grey, cold and drizzly, a typical November day in England. Nevertheless Rick needs his exercise so this afternoon we set off to explore a track that leads to a Nature Reserve. We followed the track past a farm and out into the countryside until we came to a gate. The ‘kissing gate’ appeared to be locked so I clambered, with some difficulty, over a very high stile. We followed the pathway to the woods until we came upon a small lake; several ducks flew up as we approached and a heron flew up and perched in one of the trees.
|spot the heron|
The light was fading fast so we headed back towards the farm. I struggled back over the stile, even more difficult this time as I had a poo bag in one hand. On closer examination of the kissing gate I found it wasn’t locked at all. Bah!
Is whisky always your evening drink of choice? I've never developed a taste for it. It is sometimes called rye here in Canada. When we were young and full of ourselves we'd drink rye and coke. It's red wine for me. Did you pick Rick up and lift him over the gate? -JennReplyDelete
Only on a Saturday evening, usually I drink red wine. Luckily Rick was able to crawl through the wooden stile so we didn't have to lift him.Delete
I'm not a fisherman, but small lakes such as that make me want to reach for my fishing kit. Just sitting by calm water and watching a float do nothing is one of my ideas of heaven, especially if there are Herons around.ReplyDelete
It's definitely a fisherman's lake.Delete
Oh dear - a poo bag! You have kept your colostomy secret till now,ReplyDelete
I think she means doggie poo bag. LOLReplyDelete
Oh! Thanks Silver Willow. And to Sue - sorry for any unintended offence my first comment may have caused.Delete
How kind of SW to clear that up for you YP; not literally, of course.Delete