Well, the idea was a lazy sunday by the fire.
DH would watch the Grand Prix while I read, sewed or knitted...wrong!
DH can't just sit!
It was too wet and windy to garden so he disappeared into the greenhouse but there's not a lot left to do in there so he was soon back wanting a coffee. Then after reading the newspaper he began prowling around looking out of the window...for all the world like a caged lion in a zoo.
I knew what was coming next...
'Do you think it's too wet for a walk?'
'No!' I dutifully replied.
'Get your coat on then.'
...and ten minutes later we were in the car and on our way to a nearby beech wood, the idea being it wouldn't be too wet and windy in amongst the trees!
The weathermen have forecast a huge storm over sunday and monday which is set to rival the hurricane of 1987 which took the whole country by surprise as we just don't get hurricanes in this country!
It's been raining, cold and windy for over a week now but today the wind was a lot wilder though the rain seemed quite steady and DH was itching to get out!
Clouds whipped across the sky at a phenomenal rate of knots.
The rain sluiced down the car's windscreen as the window wipers tocked backwards and forwards wiping it from the glass.
And the wind buffeted the car as we drove along under the brooding skies.
'My' Garthie...Brooks that is...was singing 'The thunder rolls' on the cd player, which seemed quite apt even if it wasn't quite thundering, you felt as if it could any minute!
And we sang along with gusto!
The road was slick and coppery brown in the layby by the wood, covered with beech leaves blown into drifts by the wind and and then flattened and made soggy by the rain.
We parked up and noticed the wind drop almost immediately, the trees were sheltering the valley.
As we entered the wood the trunks of the beeches were dark brown, wet and glistening down one side where the rain had reached them through the trees but further in it was warm and dry, the fallen beech leaves even crackled underfoot and I waded and delighted in them as a child would, jumping in the dried, brown drifts and kicking them across the path...DH just plodded on with his hands in his pockets!
The canopy above our heads was being tossed and swirled, thrown into turmoil by the wind but the rain had eased.
Pretty white funghi poked their bonnet heads through the leaves of the undergrowth and a lone dove cooed mournfully from a lofty perch before alighting some way in front of us to feast on beech masts...he flew off as we approached.
The clear stream burbled its way along it's white chalk bed as we followed the bank side path high above the water.
Little drops of moisture slipped from the over hanging leaves making small but ever expanding circles across the meniscus.
The wind whistled through the canopy and leaves fell as if it was snowing green and golden flakes.
At the edge of the wood a field of oilseed rape plants weren't yet grown high enough to hide a hare, he crouched down unaware his ears were sticking up like two little antennae! The leaves swirled this way and that in the strong wind, showing bright green fronts and sage green backs, an ever changing light show.
There was no bird song, the wind drowned out any sound, even the stream was mute and silent as it wended its way.
Tenacious ivy clung resolutely to the trees, winding her way up the trunks with curling green tendrils gripping the surface like a little green octopus.
We enjoyed the walk in the shelter of the wood but as we returned to the car the wind seemed stronger than ever, it began to rush through the little valley playing hide and seek among the trees and the rain began to splatter down again. Big drops sizzled and splashed over the coppery leaves turning them an ever darker hue.
Back home we stoked up the fire, put the telly on and chilled with hot buttered toast and mugs of steaming hot chocolate.
DH had missed the Grand Prix but didn't mind, and anyway there was football on this evening!
I lolled back in my chair, my knee was throbbing but I felt invigorated and refreshed...I'm so glad we went.
Copper brown leaves just right for kicking!
The little stream meanders along.
Clinging ivy tendrils.
Pretty white funghi.