I mentioned whilst the fell race was on, I took a stroll along the shores of Loweswater, en route I stopped to watch the fish, suspended in pools of sunshine, seemingly motionless in the flowing water, it is easier to see the shadow than the fish itself.
I admired a handsome doocot*
And look, a fine drystone wall and gateway, becomes something quite magical, by the addition of an over arching span of Cumbrian slate.
In the wood, foxgloves swayed and cow parsley effervesced in the scattered sunlight.
At the waters edge, I found a swing.
I had a go at finding my inner child, but concluded that the child needed to concentrate on having a good time. Play on the swing, or take photographs, it isn’t wise to try and combine the two. I have the bruises to prove it.
*it is 23 years since I lived in Scotland, but some words stay with me in the Scots dialect, swithering, dreek, and poly-poke are a few of my favourites.