The Valley

If you should drive out of Bath to the North East straight into the early morning sun the road dips down through Charlcombe and narrows into an ancient sunken lane then you leave the metalled road and suddenly emerge into a deep green shadowed valley with the soaring green hills climbing over your left shoulder and the ground falling to a deep shadowed valley on your right while the cold springs on both sides of the road well up and fracture the tarmac and the low winter sunlight into cold sparks that break over your windscreen and you slow and hold your breath while you crest each rise and tight turn awaiting a sudden sliding slithering shuddering halt in the face of a charging tractor or herd of stamping cattle but each rise and corner achieved then falling down again towards the cold black water and the river spanned by the white stoned hump backed bridge with the deep green moss on the shaded North bank and with lighter green on the South but before the bridge and the deep cold black water you will see on your right a farm set back with a field facing and a skittish horse kicking up the grass scattering red earth and if you should see the bright sun over the farm's lichened roof you might just stop and for a few minutes pause to listen to the wind blowing through the valley and deep breathe the cold water air before opening up and the back tyres sliding out on the wet road before biting and then back through Larkhall and none of this might have happened at all but a spatter of red mud on the wheel arches and the chill of the valley on your clothes still lingering.