The end of summer

Unfortunately I didn't go out until after lunch. Earlier, I had skipped my online yoga class in favour of an overdue clear up and clean in the kitchen (not a decision I would normally make, but a good one which left me calmer and happier about the rest of my day), sorted and cleaned more of the blackberries P won't stop picking, then cut up the last of last year's pumpkins, which was somehow still in perfect condition inside and out, for him to make into soup for lunch. 

Then, after a largely dry morning, it started raining within five minutes of me leaving the house. I had not taken a coat or a camera bag. I tucked J's camera under my cardigan, and adjusted my plans: instead of turning onto the exposed footpath up the hillside, I stayed at the bottom of the valley, beside the Nailbourne, where the path is sheltered by the long row of tall poplars. The rain soon slowed to misty drizzle, and I started to enjoy myself. The path is edged by a wide, grassy field margin full of wild flowers, many of which are now dry seed heads - cow parsley, dock, thistles - but the flat, white heads of the yarrow and the brilliant yellow vetch are still in bloom, and after all the rain the grass is very green. The field is now stubble, with new grass growing between the rows creating a softly stiped effect; the hillside hedgerows and skyline trees were soft with mist. The colours were subtly beautiful, and I always love seed heads. 

The extra shows the path not taken, which I'll follow another day.