It was the kind of afternoon you dream about if you love reading about Uncle Silas, Mr.Polly or the Larkins. It was a hot, sun high in the bluer than blue sky afternoon. All you could hear were birds and when you got into the woods, glimpses of light streaming through the trees and onto a little wooden bridge. My idea of heaven. We followed the worn trodden path until we came to a clearing and then came to a little old brick humpback bridge over the canal. When I looked over the wall there was such a timeless sight, a barge making its way down the canal which was flanked by buttercups.
To me, picture perfect. We went a little farther past a style and an old wooden signpost and then another surprise, the sound of seagulls. They were nesting on little islands and their sound just filled the air. They were flying around like a snowstorm, magic.
I have always been a country bumpkin (and Bri is getting there) but it seems much more precious these days when everything is so technical. An afternoon with nothing but the beauty of nature and a more simple way of life is the best prescription you can have, food for the soul.
It was the kind of afternoon you dream about if you love reading about Uncle Silas, Mr.Polly or the Larkins. It was a hot, sun high in the bluer than blue sky afternoon. All you could hear were birds and when you got into the woods, glimpses of light streaming through the trees and onto a little wooden bridge. My idea of heaven. We followed the worn trodden path until we came to a clearing and then came to a little old brick humpback bridge over the canal. When I looked over the wall there was such a timeless sight, a barge making its way down the canal which was flanked by buttercups.
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