Greenhaugh

It is weeks ago since we three walked at Greenhaugh; we always have a drink at the Hollybush Inn but not that day!We were  forced (by D3) to call in at the tiny bakers at Bellingham so- thwarted by no free range eggs in the village honesty box and no drink at the pub, we had to take solace in fresh pasties (formerly called Cornish!)

 then walk off the calories......

The grass verges were drifted with creamy meadowsweet.

Meadows were carpeted in harebells, vetch and orchids.

while rosebay willow herb overlooked the vast array of grasses which in turn stood tall over clover.
Everywhere there were signs that summer was coming to a close; pods on the broom,

sycamore 'helicopters' winged new and lime green on the trees but evidence of a change of season. A final flush of poppies painted long grasses; our trainers ended up wet with the early morning's rainwater

but the sun peeped at us at regular intervals, winking like an eye of day and keeping its promise of a good day to walk.

An enthusiastic laddie provided us with news of comings and goings 'down on the farm'. Names and personalities of colts and mares were disclosed;

who was pursuing which jobs..... one brother was baling the hay

while another was tedding (turning the hay to dry in the sun) and yet another was walking the bounds, checking animals and fences.

So the winter feed is in and the cereal crops are harvested. Depending on latitude and altitude, soon the ram will don his jacket and be put in with the ewes...... and the year turns full circle from withering and dying to new life.