I had a wander along a bit of the Lea valley (with obligatory stops at any pubs I passed). This little chap seemed particularly unconcerned by my presence:
Squirrel in Hawthorn
This gratuitously cute picture allows me to tangent onto one major danger of walking in woodland (or indeed under any tree) – a danger never talked about in schools, or wildlife books (Although, it’s fair to say that Newton’s Principia directly implies it).
I refer, or course, to:
No, they don’t always go on the ground. And that stream narrowly missed me.
The most recent time I was visiting the Mother-in-Law, I took her dog out for a walk. The dog is getting on in years; he used to enjoy long danders* over the South Downs, now he’s happy to get to the top of the closest hill. The top of the closest hill just happens to have a windmill built in the last few years.
Long time followers of this blog may have seen this windmill before; although last time it wasn’t the subject (and the sky was a bit flatter).
* Norn Irish for a stroll or walk; much less energetic than a yomp.