I was reading when Older Nephew arrived and didn't hear his car. The crunch of gravel near at hand made me look up and there he was. Now the day was warm, though it had been chilly first thing when I had braved the Spartan conditions of the shower block to emerge briskly clean.
We had a brief discussion and decided to head out. Older Nephew had limited time, so it couldn't be a long trip. I made lunch as we travelled, and we kept our eyes on the skies watching the kestrels hovering. We also had to keep our eyes on the water. There was very little traffic but a lot of weed. MasterB had inspected it from the rear cabin window earlier at the marina.
There were a surprising number of cows with young calves, then this fine fellow lost in contemplation.
Another cow seemed to watching us.
Time flew by and soon we had to turn around and head back. MasterB had spent the entire ime under the quilt, but emerged to greet Older Nephew and resume their relationship before he had to leave. I went for a stroll, seeing signs of autumn everywhere.
The crops are harvested and the fields are mainly empty.
The weather wavered between sunshine and scudding grey clouds. East Anglian skies.
Some plants were still growing, still flowering.
There were a number of notices along the path, including the Private Property Keep Out variety, but this one, while aggressively red, spoke of gentler concerns and hinted at spring.
I'm always drawn to the paraphernalia that builds up around boats, the Heath Robinson constructions that suggest thriftiness and invention, the preponderance of ropes. All that green you can see by the way is the Pennywort weed growing in the river.
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