No camera
Due to my ongoing back issues, some busy months and the fact that the weather has been very fond of raining on my days off, I've not done a proper walk with Scenery since early May. When I have gone out, I've stuck to the cycle path and sea front so I could pop home for lunch - and therefore save my back from having to carry a rucksack - before doing the second half of the walk in the afternoon.
But today I went in search of Scenery. I decided not to take my camera, since I'd photographed said Scenery a million of times before.
Mistake! The visibility was just perfect. The buildings of Bournmouth were sparkling and the cliffs of Purbeck looked close enough to touch. The sea behind me was dazzling silver, and every leaf and cow and mushroom stood out in perfect clarity. And there were many cows, massive and phlegmatic and untroubled by my passing. (No Heilan coos yet, though; presumably they're still in their summer quarters.) And there were many mushrooms, although nobody seemed to be picking them; a couple of years ago, at this time of year, elderly ladies were out in the dozens, snaffling mushrooms and taking them home. (Maybe they all chose unwisely and are thus no longer around to snaffle this year's crop?) There were many furry caterpillars, doggedly wiggling their way across the Down. There were gentians. I paid particular attention to these, remembering the occasion when Pellinor and I were berated by a random stranger for "walking too fast to notice the gentians."
All in all, it was really quite lovely. And, rather pleasingly, All The Hills of the island have apparently disappeared since I last walked them, in my pre-running days. Even the Gurt White Hill, that used to leave me panting and shattered, had turned non-existent, in that I was striding along, mentally tweaking the details of my new dance, and suddenly realised that I'd reached the top without having noticed the climb. I wasn't even out of breath. So that's good. I just wish I could do the actual runs so easily, or enjoy running even a quarter as much as I enjoy walking.
But today I went in search of Scenery. I decided not to take my camera, since I'd photographed said Scenery a million of times before.
Mistake! The visibility was just perfect. The buildings of Bournmouth were sparkling and the cliffs of Purbeck looked close enough to touch. The sea behind me was dazzling silver, and every leaf and cow and mushroom stood out in perfect clarity. And there were many cows, massive and phlegmatic and untroubled by my passing. (No Heilan coos yet, though; presumably they're still in their summer quarters.) And there were many mushrooms, although nobody seemed to be picking them; a couple of years ago, at this time of year, elderly ladies were out in the dozens, snaffling mushrooms and taking them home. (Maybe they all chose unwisely and are thus no longer around to snaffle this year's crop?) There were many furry caterpillars, doggedly wiggling their way across the Down. There were gentians. I paid particular attention to these, remembering the occasion when Pellinor and I were berated by a random stranger for "walking too fast to notice the gentians."
All in all, it was really quite lovely. And, rather pleasingly, All The Hills of the island have apparently disappeared since I last walked them, in my pre-running days. Even the Gurt White Hill, that used to leave me panting and shattered, had turned non-existent, in that I was striding along, mentally tweaking the details of my new dance, and suddenly realised that I'd reached the top without having noticed the climb. I wasn't even out of breath. So that's good. I just wish I could do the actual runs so easily, or enjoy running even a quarter as much as I enjoy walking.