Barra Wood

According to his Lordship, weekends are for relaxing after a hard week's work.
What he hasn't taken in consideration is the fact that he has retired.

I had to ignore the Sunday tiredness syndrome which appeared after his session at the gym and propel him forth for a trip to Barra Wood with its little secret loch and a carpet of snowdrops.

It's hidden away on the road between Gifford and Garvald and only revealed its presence to us last year when we congregated there with other cyclists in memory of a stalwart member of our cycling group who had just died.

The track through the wood was very muddy with deep tractor ruts and boggy puddles, but down at the lochan the water was still, and all was calm and peaceful with no sound save the splashing of the two resident swans catching whatever swans catch under water.

I did blip them, but the lack of details in their feathers on the blips, meant I have posted the gate at the entrance to the track instead.

Our shoes were thick with mud. We have a good old Scottish word for that- 'clarty'.
In my mind it says it all.