A summer's day on the heath

[puddleshark]

Rain sweeping across the heath in curtains. Wind bending the grasses, tossing the branches of the silver birches.

Not a complaint. I love walking on the heath on days like this. The purple heather and the golden grasses and the bright yellow flowers of Dwarf Gorse at their most beautiful under a dark grey sky. Paths fade as they curve away from you. You can never reach the end of them: your destination is cloud and rain.









***

And after the walk, a pot of tea in the little campsite café on the edge of the heath. A few forlorn-looking tents in the fields. Three other customers in the café, watching the rain blow by on the wind outside the windows. A couple with a very hairy and very wet dog were chatting cheerfully with a gently-dripping cyclist in yellow hi-viz. (When the café owner commiserated with him on the rain, he just said, "Oh, you get used to it.") The camaraderie of foul weather. It cheers us up no end.

Comments

[heleninwales]

Because we can choose the best day of the week for a walk, we've got rather soft and try to avoid the rain. But I know what you mean about the camaraderie of wet weather.

[puddleshark]

I don't go out nearly as much in the rain as I used to when I had a spaniel, but I do love walking on the heath in the rain at this time of year. The colours are so beautiful.