Just Dog walking

I sometimes forget how unique and breathtaking our scenery is here.  I scooted around Brentor walking the dog and the view toward the western slopes of Dartmoor was compelling.  You can see how the granite forced its way through the crust.

Nature has applied its own colour scheme: green for decent topsoil depth, and brown for acidic, peaty virtually non-existent topsoil suitable for ankle-breaking grass tufts and incredibly hardy hawthorn trees.  I say trees, there more like stumpy 'Ent' gargoyles.  (Tolkein noun.)


On a different note, I have just returned from a Celebration Day where two people pledged their commitment to each other in front of their family and friends.  It was truly lovely.  I re-connected with people I knew from 30 years ago in London.  Danced too much I think.  Probably embarrassed my children.  Least I broadened THAT horizon for them.

It re-affirmed my wish that we could all enjoy regular "mash-ups" of old friends and new, family and loved ones just for its own sake.  Why is it just weddings and funerals?  Actually I know why, but wouldn't it be lovely if we could do it once a year, without agenda?

We've seen the last of the sun for a few days...  Autumn has a foot in the door.  The manic-depressive leaves of the sycamore trees are instantly turning brown and shrugging off the tree, whilst the chestnuts have started changing for the colour party.  The maples are waiting for their big entrance...