The Ducks And Geese Are Squawking….
As I walk down to the dockside, I can see the early morning mist, swirling slightly as it rises from the cool water. It’s a surreal and truly beautiful moment.
The ducks and geese are squawking loudly as they turn towards me, hoping for an early morning snack……. Not something that I’ll ever give them.
A dozen or so small wooden rowboats are lined up on the shingle beach and their timbers creak gently with the lapping of the lake waters.
I stop.
It’s peaceful here.
Ahead of me and across the lake is a hill…. A ‘fell’. It’s slowly revealing itself to me as the soft clouds gently rise. Scars cover it’s slopes. Hang gliders must use them as a takeoff platform. The damage they’ve done is severe.
Newly planted saplings cover its lower slopes, a sign that the new government initiative and offer has been taken up by the landowner.
Three or four little white houses cling to the beach at its base and running between them is a tiny footpath…. A trail that will allow me to ‘summit’.
George, the boat keeper, is rattling his keys and opening the boathouse door.
We greet each other and I pay a fee for the use of a boat.
The day has started well.