From Heaven's Gate

[puddleshark]

A walk along the high ground above the Purbeck coast, in the company of the north wind and skylark song.





Followed the ridge as far as the gate to the steep stony track down to Hell Bottom (named some years ago, in marker pen, presumably by a sore-arsed mountain biker) and Kimmeridge.

Turned to retrace my steps. Stopped to sit for a while by the little wooden gate engraved with the words "HEAVEN'S GATE". I don't know who named it. Originally the words were chalked on the gate. But the name stuck, and is now official. The wind was cold and the sun was warm and the air was clear. Cloudshadow went passing over the hills inland, and I mourned the Old Girl a while.


The sun strikes sparks in your bright copper coat.
The March wind combs your mane.
The cloudshadow's travelling over the hills.
Shall we race it, Charm, again?

Yes, I write poems to the memory of my horse. What of it?



***

And the verdict on the secondhand Canon 6D I bought last week. Nice camera. Shame the auto-focus doesn't work properly. I can get it to work by pressing the AF-on button, or the touch screen, but not by pressing the shutter halfway. Looks like I'm in for yet another visit to the camera shop next week...

Comments

[puddleshark]

Yes. I'm not strong enough or brave enough to get back in the saddle these days.

I don't miss the physical labour and the financial stress of keeping horses, but I do miss the days of being fit enough to vault onto a horse & ride bareback!