With no particular destination in mind, I got in the car and tootled off in the direction of Cubbington. Continuing through Offchurch, I eventually pulled off the road half way to Hunningham. While all earlier decisions were driven by whimsy, the pull off was punctuated by the sight of a leafless, twisted oak in the vicinity of Fields Farm.
There was no public access to the field, though I detected a way in for one day. So instead, I ambled back to the entrance to the farm and journeyed along the half decent drive, stopping briefly to make pictorial sense of a tumbling timber barn where drive and right of way separated. Taking the right of way, I continued for about half a mile or so until I reached the bank of the River Leam. It was persistently raining, though not as hard as the rattle of raindrops on the adjacent trees and hedge might have suggested.
Crossing the Leam by means of a metal bridge of a comparatively ornate standard, I was met by a colourful coppice of butter yellow and carpet to match.
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