An Evening Walk

Harvington is a little Hamlet I have a great fondness for, having previously spent many years living there. we have walked the dogs over every inch of countryside, and whenever we return, it still feels like home.
We set off for our evening walk to watch the sun set over the lower lake at Harvington Hall. Children and dogs running excitedly ahead, through the ancient gateway of a derelict walled garden.

A gaggle of geese effortlessly glide over our heads, jostling for their place in formation, noisily honking a commentary as they pass on by.

We stand next to the sullen, dark water of the lake. the reflective surface broken fleetingly by a flash of silver, as a leaping fish quickly 'slaps' back into the water.

The cornfield alongside the lake is illuminated by a final burst of light from a coppery sun. A living playground for the many swifts, swooping and darting across it's surface, ready to mob any flying insects.

Poppies and wildflowers creep nervously from the hedgerows, to weave in amongst the field edges. They offer a subtle splash of colour in an endless sea of golden, nodding ears.
A hazel tree anounces it's presence at the head of a small wood, peppering the floor with fallen nuts. Beaten to it by the squirrels, most are already hollowed out whilst still nestling in their silky, frilly cases.

Ultimately the sun melts away, and dusk slowly settles around us. We amble back, hands full of small, tart blackberries. Pockets full of nut shells, feathers and pebbles, all chidren's found treasure.
Darkness begins to tempt it's secretive residents out of their daytime slumber. The joys and pleasures of which remain for another walk on another night.