Another beautiful Autumnal day, the sun streaming at a slant, falling dappled between the yellowing ash leaves as we walk the lane to the hay field.
There are no cars, just the sound of bird song, a tractor in a field across the fields.
We come to the field of stubble dotted with large round yellow bales, awaiting collection and she's off running. With a leap and a bound she is up on the top, a bale that nearly reaches her height.
In the centre of the field is a small copse of trees and bushes that have grown up around a hollow. A wood within a field. We step in and the trees close around us.
Rowan bushes that have sprouted to the size of trees enclose the hollow so that their branches form a close canopy over our heads.
We could be anywhere, the Blair Witch springs to mind and I wish for a cine camera to record the shadows and the moss covered tree trunks. It seems medieval, ancient and very still..
A good spot for a spooky Hallowe'en camp out.
As the light starts to fade we retrace our steps and clamber under rambling briars and low hanging boughs back to the relative safety of the stubble field.
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