It's a Sign

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We went out for a Boxing Day walk around lunchtime. It had been so warm in the sunshine of the dining room, that I'd almost dozed off while doing a jigsaw and listening to my latest audiobook, The fault in our stars by John Green. So I stumbled into my boots and we set off by car to do a fairly short circular walk. It ended up being a bit longer than planned.

At the waterfall in the corner of the field far below the house called The Heavens, an impressive dam had been built. The falls, which are often no more than a clayey trickle, were in spate as a result of the recent heavy rains. The light was poor for photography, so we climbed the hill via the pathway, the long way round, until eventually we reached the house and the source of the stream, a gushing spring. I paddled around, splashing and drinking and wishing I were a dog or that it was summer and I could go for a more whole-body experience and dry off in seconds.

But... we continued, past the Heavens and then the house which once had a beautiful garden, which had an area that housed pigs and, later, alpacas. Now the woman who used to garden there has MS and the animals are long gone. An estate agent's sign informed us that the house had recently been sold. We continued uphill to 'the viewpoint', a stile and path leading over the fields to Nether Lypiatt, the house where some minor royals used to live until they lost their funding from the civil list. I love the symmetry of the house, but the estate reeks of money, and Poshtershire , which includes horsey pursuits such as polo and eventing. Below us, at Browning's farm, we could hear the guns of the traditional Boxing Day shoot. The Gloucestershire landed class live pretty much as they did in my grandfather's day, seemingly immune from social change and death duties, with the exception of the foxhunting ban of 2005. It is no longer permitted to hunt live foxes, though I am not sure what happens instead. Certainly, the hunt goes on.

This is the view facing the other way towards the river Severn and the eminence called Doverow hill, that rises above the town of Stonehouse. I was using the dramatic filter as I'd put it on for a shot of a blue corrugated iron shed, and left it on by mistake. I liked it. After doodling around Nether Lypiatt house and observing a crossroads with a traditional signpost and a Japanese sign tacked below it, and yet another sign at the entrance saying "SLOW! Beware of animals and children", we walked back down the single track road to where we had left the car in Claypits Lane.

And now I must leave you, for it is time to watch Death Comes to Pemberley, part one.

CleanSteve's flickr set of today's walk is here and worth a look.