In The Quiet Of The Morning

The first thing I do after I getup every day is peep out of the bedroom window. I judge the morning so I can decide what to do.

This morning the silver birch was motionless and there was flat calm on the water on the garage roof. A good morning to make a trip to the lake. Well, not so weather-wise, the day was dull and the lake was far from still, even before the launch came past.

Good though, in that I enjoyed going back to a place I have been only once. I enjoyed the quietness and the loneliness of it. It was as if no one else had ever disturbed the carpet of dried leaves. But, oh, dear, yes they had!

The small businesses of the Lake District rely on tourists but why, oh why, do they have to leave rubbish? I had to clamber past what looked like the frame of a tent or a pop-up. Then I saw a stone ring where a fire had been lit and all the rocks were coated in melted plastic off the framework. Why didn't they fold it up and put it back in the car? It later occurred to me that this fire may be the reason for missing short planks from the adjacent boathouse jetty.

OK rant over! I sat, just loving being here in the silence, trying to make something of the scene, hoping the grey wagtail might come back after I had changed lenses. The thing that was missing from this peaceful place was my new purple flask - full of tea.

Next time!