Autumn afternoon at Les ballastières

A moorhen is keen - his missus quickly swims to the edge.  You’re too late, mate - this is autumn sun - not spring! 

 Daffodils are also fooled -their little-sun faces gleam golden in the grass.

We stroll on the leaf-strewn bank between two lakes.  Crisp leaves crunch beneath our feet, a breeze riffles the tree tops and other leaves tumble down onto our heads and shoulders.  The path leads us to a splash of autumn colour.

In the past we have walked all around this big site.  Now, even with our sticks, a ten-minute stroll is enough for aching backs.  My husband has been busy, wielding a paint brush and he is tired. A flash on my cheek…the TN shrieks “Hello!  I’m still here.”  What?  Now a walk not only wakes my back but my trigeminal nerve too?

We head back to the car;  set picnic chairs on the decking of an anglers’ old swim.  It has become a favourite corner.

Youngsters’ conversation drifts from beyond the far side of the lake.  We hope it means the training college has again taken on the care of this valuable nature reserve, preserving this refuge for fish, birds, animals, the community - and us.

A donkey brays from a nearby field.  A moorhen calls from the lake - somewhere between a squeak, a quack, a hoot and a honk - though not a mouse, duck, owl or goose is he. Maybe a ‘silly goose‘. Maybe his luck will change.

We enjoy the mellowness of this autumn day and push aside thoughts of the coming winter of our discontent.