passing

In winter, I find that I lose the the desire to travel far from home. Instead , I spend a lot of time walking around the fields surrounding our house - rather like “beating the bounds” which was a feature of the Surrey village where I spent my teenage years. I do this slowly, noticing small things. It feels like an annual way of taking stock. Some of these fields were farmed by my Dad’s great great grandfather, so maybe it’s in the blood…

That farmer, Joseph Boyes, maybe have known the beech tree from which this limb has fallen. It is huge now and I started to count the rings, but gave up.

It has been warmer today - no need for hat or gloves or thermal leggings. Not that I have put them away - tomorrow is another day :-)