This gate stands at the edge of a beech wood on the top of the path between Youlgrave and Lathkill Dale. The sunlight came flashing through the trees and illuminating the treacherous roots in crazy patterns. Fifty feet above me, me the leaves were continuously making that sound like tide withdrawing over shingle. Beyond the gate the brightness dazzled, bleaching out shapes and making even the bars of the gate disappear. As soon as I got out of the wood, I realised how much it had been sheltering me from the the full force of the wind. When my eyes had adjusted to the broad sweep of pasture, I stood close to the gate and looked cautiously at a bull amidst the cows. Things do not always turn out as expected. Other walkers continued blithely. The shadows of clouds raced across the fields. I stayed for a few minutes and then turned back to the car. Today I re-entered the wood as I painted. I have spent 3 hours. My paint has all dried up. I am going out for a breather before continuing. End of part one. |