Monday morning

After the traffic chaos from this weekend’s festival, today seemed a good day to commute by bicycle. My route takes me across a chain ferry, up an estuary, down a steep wooded valley, across a creek, through a copse, and up a down.

I’d love to share more photos of it with you, but I have a pathological inability to apply the brakes on a descent. So, here are some of the flatter parts my journey..

Many of the roads were closed in anticipation of the festival traffic, so it was just me and some other pedalling commuters, in a utopian post-petrol dream.

In the winter the early morning start feels crisp and new, but at this time of year 7am feels late to the party. Despite this, there was still a red squirrel, several buzzards and a general cacophony of birdsong, accompanied by the scent of honeysuckle, wet grass and pine needles.

Not a bad way to start the day.

Grey to green

We had heavy rain overnight and woke to grey foreboding skies. I was envisaging a day spent with tea and a book and quickly got to some baking. But no sooner had the caramel set than the sun came out. Just in time for a mini adventure to a favourite spot before tea.

West along the coast from where we live is Newtown, a little one road hamlet with a history of far greater things. In the fourteenth century it was a thriving community, and there remain reminders of its ancient past, in the old salt pans, the ‘Francheville’ town sign, and the beautifully restored old town hall. But now it feels like a perfect backwater, with the harbour walk being the main event, and lending itself to nothing more than a quiet meander.

In this summer wind the meadows were alive with butterflies and blossoms and the quiet rushing of leaves. A perfect quiet Sunday wander, and home in time to add the chocolate layer to these homemade twix bars. Yum.

A walk in the woods

Tom and I recently discovered Borthwood Copse, the remnants of an ancient woodland that covered most of the East of the Wight. Step a few feet in and you’re soon lost in the hundred hidden paths, big robin hood oaks and sense of its medieval past. This discovery has been a long time coming, considering we’ve lived on the Island for five years. We found it after mentioning our bluebell hunt to a true local, and this was his immediate suggestion. We were too late for the bluebells this year, but did find some great climbing trees and a few local residents.

Oh the wind

The wind is so fierce, it’s howling down our chimney and whistling through the doors. Bright skies pull me outside, but these winds are more suited to a wander down the pier, than a cycle up a hill. After a few lungfuls of fresh air and some seriously knotted hair, I’m happy to return indoors, curl up with a book and enjoy the cosiness of this stormy weather.

Not quite in my element

I stole some time in the country on my lunch break today, sat with my sandwich on the side of the bridleway. I thought about how I’d rather be under that tree, in muddy jeans, than perched on the side in my smart clothes.
I’d always rather be outdoors and too often am stuck the wrong side of the fence. But, I’m making plans to change that and in the meantime must be happy to have these stolen moments on the edge.