Wellington boots were the order of the day.
We visited the local water meadows.
An overflow for the lake and canal.
The water meanders through the meadows in sinuous curves.
It is a very watery place.
And in winter wellington boots are an absolute must.
Mud is plentiful.
The sun was bright but the wind was icy cold and invigorating.
It was very soggy underfoot.
Following the water course is a scrubby woodland full of brash undergrowth with secret places.
The sort of untamed wilderness that I love; where tangles of branches and brambles twine together. Where ancient hawthorns stand gnarled and knobbly.
Where wild animals make their homes and birds sing, unseen.
There is freedom to roam; to explore and exclaim at the beauty of it all.
The water wends its way through the fields; tumbling over rocks and fallen branches.
Swift eddies swirling past obstacles.
A place where King Cups grow and Pussy Willow reaches for the sky.
My kind of place.
Directional arrows that can't quite make their mind up!
Everywhere water is a thing of beauty, gleaming in the dewdrops; singing in the summer rain; shining in the ice-gems till the leaves all seem to turn to living jewels; spreading a golden veil over the setting sun; or a white gauze around the midnight moon ~ John Ballantine Gough