Flagging on the Hill

So much to do and I really thought I wouldn't be able to go beating today.  I rang and asked if they were could manage without me but, the weekend before Christmas, so many had backed out, favouring the shops over the countryside.  The first drive of the day didn't require quite so many men so I had a bit of time to complete a few things before I left home. I'm glad I did go even though it means another struggle to catch up tomorrow,  In sheltered spots it was warm and even though the wind had a real bite to it, the spectacular views were unmissable.  

One of the drives is held on a hill that I've watched change throughout the years.  I remember it as a sand quarry and when the guns stood 50ft below us, in the rubbish when it became a landfill site.  Now the hill is higher than the original that I never knew.  

The sand extracted, lorry loads of rubbish was brought in daily and compressed until capacity and, only months after completion, is now being covered with soil and planted with grass and wild flowers.  It's still not a pretty place as pipes lie all over the surface, channelling the gas from the putrid mound to a gas station below, but at least it no longer reeks and feels reasonably clean. I can't help but admire the care that's being taken to reverting the former eyesore into a nature friendly environment. 

I really liked Iggy's silhouette as he stood on the highest point, waving his flag made from a feed bag to turn the pheasant and whistle in his mouth to control the dog which was working below.  It could have been in colour but it felt right to display it in black and white.