Waterlogged

It was another bright, clear morning, with a very hard frost. I decided to return to the valley path at Duck Street, so see if the oozing mud around the flooded section of path was sufficiently frozen to allow me to edge around the water and continue along the path. The large tussocks of grass seemed quite dry and firm, if I picked my way carefully, but I was tempted to get closer to the lying water and semi-submerged grass in the field. I found the whole area much, much wetter than it appeared. A thin sheet of ice under the apparently dry grass crackled alarmingly as I moved, and I constantly needed to revise my route. It wasn't dangerous, I would not have been more than ankle deep at worst and was in clear view of lots of passing dog walkers, but it took a long time to move a short distance. Once past the first stretch, the footpath was firm, but I was not keen to return by the same route, so after walking a little way along the valley and taking a few photos for my footpath series, I attempted the circular route. I crossed the Nailbourne, flowing high and fast under the bridge but well within its banks, and found the path across the meadow obstructed by shimmering blue pools. I made my way round the edges, but here too grass that, from a little distance, appeared quite dry and firm turned out to be almost floating on little ice sheets. I moved wider and wider and eventually reached the gate with my boots largely dry, but it's not a route I'll return to until we've had enough dry weather for the water table to drop. It was interesting to see though - I'm not sure that these are exactly water meadows, but the bottom of the valley is a low lying area which has probably flooded periodically in wet winters for centuries.

I was busy in the kitchen all afternoon. I wanted to make a little thank you gift for M, who dropped everything to come and rescue us yesterday, and decided on cookies, the very chocolatey chocolate chip ones we've made before (with some to keep for ourselves too!). Then there was the supermarket delivery to sort out, Brussels sprouts to prepare for P to steam later, a pile of non-dishwasher things to wash up, and cavallo nero waiting to be prepared for the freezer. When I was teaching I was used to being on my feet all day, but I'm out of practice, and was glad of a few minutes knitting in my armchair before dinner.