Owl Wood and Conkers

The summer undergrowth is dying back in Owl Wood,  which makes it a lot easier to go along with our wheelbarrows and gather the fallen sticks.   Free kindling, plus it keeps the woodland floor just a little safer.     The last few days have been decidedly chilly, especially in the evenings, inevitably thoughts turn to what is to come, the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, thick socks, cosy throws and the cheerful warmth of a log burner.

I have a sneaky feeling that autumn is my favourite season, but then when we are coming out of winter and into a beautiful Spring I tend to rhapsodise about that, too.    Winter and summer are pretty good too, but only when they do what it says on the packet.

The small wheelbarrow belongs to my grandchildren, picking up the kindling is an easy way for them to earn their pocket money, plus it saves me a chore.

One of the last things I baked in the Rayburn was a wild plum, walnut and windfall apple tart.   Quick and easy, always popular in this house.    I had one big red plum left in the fruit bowl, so I added that, along with a sprinkle of cinnamon.     Served warm with custard it makes a cheap and easy pudding, warming and flavoursome.

The new cooker should get a good workout this weekend when our older son and his family come to stay.      It will give me a great excuse to cook up a storm, make sure that they don't go hungry while they are under my roof.

Work is still ongoing, the kitchen is still all out of kilter.   I escape whenever I can.

I  decided to go out berry hunting along the old railway line, hoping to be able to pick some brambles, aka blackberries, but in my part of Lincolnshire we call them brambles. 

Despite the dry summer, they are very large and juicy compared to the ones I normally find along there.   As I picked them I thought about Farmer T's late wife, Elizabeth, we often used to see one another along there, each armed with an old margarine tub and intent on picking a few berries to add to a pie.

My secateurs were put to good use, few people walk along the track now, brambles, wild roses and nettles are staking their claim and the track is almost impassable in parts.



Short walks take us along country lanes, there is a magnificent horse chestnut tree just along here, the conkers are not quite ready yet.     I have heard tell that there is to be a bit of a conker competition in the village.    The old village school has a horse chestnut tree in the grounds, the people who now own the place have decided that the playground would be a great place to 'host' such an event.     The competitors - men only, apparently - may wear school uniforms.        If it goes ahead it could be quite fun.

The old watermill looked tranquil, too early for any visitors to be roaming the grounds.

Just a little further along and up a small hill the bridle way leads past a farm and the old farm workers cottages.   

This is the main farmhouse, looking resplendent, easy to tell that some love is being put back into the place.      Even more excitingly, and the whole reason I came this way...

A beautiful horse doing some dressage exercises.    This is a whole new venture for the farm.


Somehow I think my feet will be leading me this way more often, there is something quite wonderful about watching these powerful and beautiful horses, the poetry of their movements.   

Who am I kidding?   Any horse will get my attention.   My granddaughter is the same, we spent quite a while watching this horse and rider, I grew tired first and had to coax her away to complete our walk.