Occasionally weird things turn up in the woods. The weirdest was probably a carpet sweeper propped next to a lean to made of branches. Like someone needed to carpet sweep the undergrowth.
But on this evening we found a tyre. Nothing particularly special about this tyre, kind of smaller than a regular type, but a tyre, heavy, solid. The mutts gave it a once over - but very quickly got bored of it. Lying a little off the path I figured I could shift it and make it roll along - and maybe impossibly reach the edge of the forest for the council to pick up, thus doing my good Samaritan / environmentalist bit for the day. Of course it would never make it, but I would roll it a ways and see how it did.
Pulled it out. Stood it up, gave it a push and off it rolled.
Much to the renewed interest and wild delight of mutt #1.
This was a new and exciting thing to chase, bark and nip at ! And with each nip she managed to nudge it with her nose and give it an extra push which resulted in two things. One. Mutt#1 was driven to greater noise and effort due to the tyre not succumbing to her will and always running away from her. Two. The tyre was moving ever faster in a bizarrely perfectly balanced, perfectly pushed kind of way.
Mutt and tyre soon disappeared out of sight up the path. Like some bizarre unlikely staged sit-com scene.
The chase ended some minutes later when the tyre hit the metal gate at the edge of the woods with a loud ringing clang, which was probably fortunate, otherwise both tyre and mutt would have continued to speed along the road outside the woods to who knows where.
Friday 18 October 2013
Wednesday 14 August 2013
The Beast of the Woods
A dark night somewhere around the first quarter of the year.
Having walked the mutts around and about the forest we had since devolved into a tug of war over a hefty branch. The mutts have a tendency to grab the very largest piece of tree they can, and then trot around with their trophy clamped between their jaws. Never mind that it's 8 feet long and as thick as your arm... that just means it doesn't break.
The three of us staggered along, tugging this way and that - the branch was long enough that I held it behind me over a shoulder, whilst the base of it trailed to the floor a few feet behind me - both mutts clamped to it.
Dark. So dark that anything in any kind of tree cover is lost entirely. In the sparser areas you can make out shapes.
Struggling along, my ears prick up at the sound of pounding paws breaking through the undergrowth to my right. Ah I think. One of the mutts has become bored chewing on the stick and has made off into the bushes. Wanting to know which one I still had tugging on the branch, I looked back.
Only to see both mutts still tugging.
A split second realisation of - if they are both there, then what's blasting through the undergrowth on my right.
I snapped my head back round - just in time to see a dark silhouette streak across the path in front of me, less than 5 feet away. It moved fast and slunk close to the floor - something big, and something heavy. Far too big for a fox or cat - and too heavy. The wrong shape and size for a deer or a dog - and it moved nothing like them. Lithe and low slung. Like a cat. But much bigger. And heavier.
Within a blink of an eye it had crossed the path and flown into the undergrowth to the left of the path.
The mutts, keen and aware hunters that they are noticed nothing. Their minds were fixed on the branch. Idiots.
Shrugging off the encounter as 'one of those things' ( you get used to the weirdness when you regularly walk at that time of night ) we continued on and thought nothing more of it.
It was only in the week after, browsing the news that I stumbled across a report...
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-norfolk-21628555
... and what I had seen that night clicked. Surely not ? Could be. Was about the right size, shape, movement. But then surely someone would have seen it ? Caught it ? Bumped into it ?
Who knows.
Having walked the mutts around and about the forest we had since devolved into a tug of war over a hefty branch. The mutts have a tendency to grab the very largest piece of tree they can, and then trot around with their trophy clamped between their jaws. Never mind that it's 8 feet long and as thick as your arm... that just means it doesn't break.
The three of us staggered along, tugging this way and that - the branch was long enough that I held it behind me over a shoulder, whilst the base of it trailed to the floor a few feet behind me - both mutts clamped to it.
Dark. So dark that anything in any kind of tree cover is lost entirely. In the sparser areas you can make out shapes.
Struggling along, my ears prick up at the sound of pounding paws breaking through the undergrowth to my right. Ah I think. One of the mutts has become bored chewing on the stick and has made off into the bushes. Wanting to know which one I still had tugging on the branch, I looked back.
Only to see both mutts still tugging.
A split second realisation of - if they are both there, then what's blasting through the undergrowth on my right.
I snapped my head back round - just in time to see a dark silhouette streak across the path in front of me, less than 5 feet away. It moved fast and slunk close to the floor - something big, and something heavy. Far too big for a fox or cat - and too heavy. The wrong shape and size for a deer or a dog - and it moved nothing like them. Lithe and low slung. Like a cat. But much bigger. And heavier.
Within a blink of an eye it had crossed the path and flown into the undergrowth to the left of the path.
The mutts, keen and aware hunters that they are noticed nothing. Their minds were fixed on the branch. Idiots.
Shrugging off the encounter as 'one of those things' ( you get used to the weirdness when you regularly walk at that time of night ) we continued on and thought nothing more of it.
It was only in the week after, browsing the news that I stumbled across a report...
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-norfolk-21628555
... and what I had seen that night clicked. Surely not ? Could be. Was about the right size, shape, movement. But then surely someone would have seen it ? Caught it ? Bumped into it ?
Who knows.
Thursday 15 November 2012
The Lurkers in the Woods
An Autumn evening a while back, the sun has already sunk below the horizon, but its light has yet to fade.
Walking through the trees a ruckus emanates from a wooded slope. Someone is yelling semi football chants, bellowing and calling out every minute or so.
Intrigued as to who is causing such an uncouth disturbance, we three change our course and head up the hill.
The dim light of pre-night settles on the forest as we eventually encounter the source of the disturbance. Ahead of us on the path, two guys lounge on a large fallen tree, cigarette smoke wreathed about their heads, their features lost in the shadowy light.
The two mutts ranging in front of me see the men long before they see us, and the hounds pause to assess the situation. A quiet word from one guy to another -
"It's a dog...."
"... and not a little one either. Not like the..." too quiet to hear.
"There's another one."
The mutts approach with me in tow. As we pass the guys, one asks in a rough Estuary accent whether I know where a road is. I do, it's way over the other side of the forest. Ah says the guy, someone we know is coming from there, we are trying to get his attention to let him know where we are. We're trying to meet up with him - and we don't know these woods.
Odd I think, to meet at night in a woods you don't know, but then perhaps the third person is a native and suggested the location.
I tell them where the guy will likely be approaching from then and leave them to it.
As we roam through the woods at times we can hear the men calling, and at times their voices are lost to the trees and the contours of the land.
Night time sets in proper and someone deep in the undergrowth says Where are you ? Stopping, I listen and give a tentative hello.
No reply.
The undergrowth rustles.
I say hello again - but again there is no reply. Shrugging my shoulders at the strange and unsocial lurker we continue our walk.
A half hour later we pass a spot not far from the original unseen lurker, and again a voice calls out from the bushes Where have you been.
I stop again and ask if the person is looking for two friends. If so they are on the other side of the valley.
No reply.
Hello ? Hello ? There is someone there, but for their own reasons they are hiding.
The undergrowth rustles and the mutts take up flanking positions, the boy giving the bushes a low growl for good measure.
This seems to flush the stranger out. I flick the torch on to help his escape - he is waist deep in bushes, brambles and all sorts. Hello mate, he says in another deep Estuary accent. You haven't seen two guys around here have you ?
Yes I say, they are up on the other side of the valley.
He looks at me unsure.
Follow that trail up there I say. He still looks unsure. Do you know the woods I ask ?
No he says, never been here, don't know where I am.
Uh ok. Follow me then.
I fucking hate dogs the thin wiry stranger admits, looking at my two mutts who have since grown bored and wandered off to sniff things.
Ah sorry I say.
Not your problem mate. You weren't to know.
The young, tall, rake thin guy follows me through the woods, he asks if there is a swamp here ? No I reply. Oh he says.
Finally we get to the two guys, they call out to each other - nicknames.
Who have you got there with you the guys ask.
Some guy and his dogs he replies.
Why comes the question.
I was lost he says. And you are a fucking retard.
I leave the guys to it.
But it gets me thinking. Why would three people agree to meet in a forest they have never been to, at night, and be wary of strangers.
Up to no good I wonder.
I ponder the wisdom of actually leading all three to find each other. Perhaps I should have left the young lithe one lost.
It occurs to me they could be burglars. The skinny one to climb in the windows, the two much older guys to provide the muscle.
Who knows.
Walking through the trees a ruckus emanates from a wooded slope. Someone is yelling semi football chants, bellowing and calling out every minute or so.
Intrigued as to who is causing such an uncouth disturbance, we three change our course and head up the hill.
The dim light of pre-night settles on the forest as we eventually encounter the source of the disturbance. Ahead of us on the path, two guys lounge on a large fallen tree, cigarette smoke wreathed about their heads, their features lost in the shadowy light.
The two mutts ranging in front of me see the men long before they see us, and the hounds pause to assess the situation. A quiet word from one guy to another -
"It's a dog...."
"... and not a little one either. Not like the..." too quiet to hear.
"There's another one."
The mutts approach with me in tow. As we pass the guys, one asks in a rough Estuary accent whether I know where a road is. I do, it's way over the other side of the forest. Ah says the guy, someone we know is coming from there, we are trying to get his attention to let him know where we are. We're trying to meet up with him - and we don't know these woods.
Odd I think, to meet at night in a woods you don't know, but then perhaps the third person is a native and suggested the location.
I tell them where the guy will likely be approaching from then and leave them to it.
As we roam through the woods at times we can hear the men calling, and at times their voices are lost to the trees and the contours of the land.
Night time sets in proper and someone deep in the undergrowth says Where are you ? Stopping, I listen and give a tentative hello.
No reply.
The undergrowth rustles.
I say hello again - but again there is no reply. Shrugging my shoulders at the strange and unsocial lurker we continue our walk.
A half hour later we pass a spot not far from the original unseen lurker, and again a voice calls out from the bushes Where have you been.
I stop again and ask if the person is looking for two friends. If so they are on the other side of the valley.
No reply.
Hello ? Hello ? There is someone there, but for their own reasons they are hiding.
The undergrowth rustles and the mutts take up flanking positions, the boy giving the bushes a low growl for good measure.
This seems to flush the stranger out. I flick the torch on to help his escape - he is waist deep in bushes, brambles and all sorts. Hello mate, he says in another deep Estuary accent. You haven't seen two guys around here have you ?
Yes I say, they are up on the other side of the valley.
He looks at me unsure.
Follow that trail up there I say. He still looks unsure. Do you know the woods I ask ?
No he says, never been here, don't know where I am.
Uh ok. Follow me then.
I fucking hate dogs the thin wiry stranger admits, looking at my two mutts who have since grown bored and wandered off to sniff things.
Ah sorry I say.
Not your problem mate. You weren't to know.
The young, tall, rake thin guy follows me through the woods, he asks if there is a swamp here ? No I reply. Oh he says.
Finally we get to the two guys, they call out to each other - nicknames.
Who have you got there with you the guys ask.
Some guy and his dogs he replies.
Why comes the question.
I was lost he says. And you are a fucking retard.
I leave the guys to it.
But it gets me thinking. Why would three people agree to meet in a forest they have never been to, at night, and be wary of strangers.
Up to no good I wonder.
I ponder the wisdom of actually leading all three to find each other. Perhaps I should have left the young lithe one lost.
It occurs to me they could be burglars. The skinny one to climb in the windows, the two much older guys to provide the muscle.
Who knows.
Wednesday 12 September 2012
A Shot in the Dark
This week I took the new camera to the woods, wanting to test out just how good at low light photography it was.
So far the camera has done superbly well in lighting where other lesser things have failed miserably.
Our night walks however are dark. Really dark. Darker than dark. Which sounds crazy, until you realise that you are walking under a thick canopy and the little light there might be from the stars or reflected from a cloud base is just about entirely shut out.
Nevertheless I took half a dozen shots with a long exposure malarkey. 30 seconds to be precise - so not a great speed to be shooting the mutts with, all you would get is the faint hint of a blur.
Apart
from a shot where some stars were in the field of view the rest of the
pictures were... dark. Inky black. Apparently it really is that dark. I
did however take a shot with poor light from a torch - and despite the
dubious light quality, the camera took a pretty good picture.
Ah well, no moody night shots. I might look into getting a proper tripod - I have a baby one - and taking even longer exposure shots, but I suspect it won't help for the woods, but would be nice for other night time shots that aren't in quite so dark and challenging places.
The weather turned briefly warm again - and during a midnight walk with a clear sky I gave up traipsing around to lie down on a patch of grass and watch the stars above. I never get bored of looking at the stars - it's a real shame there is so much light pollution around that filters out a lot of the detail. A few clouds scudded overhead to give the weird sensation that the stars were wheeling around at breakneck speed. I think I lay there for 20 minutes or so enjoying the sensation of rushing through space.
Of course, every 5 minutes or so was interspersed by one of the mutts checking up that I was A OK via a wet nose in my face, and suitable licks to ears, nose and anything else they could reach.
After one particularly thorough slobbering from the boy I decided to call my star gazing to an end, called him a punk, and we stalked off through the darkness to make our happy way home - and reached our door by 2AM.
So far the camera has done superbly well in lighting where other lesser things have failed miserably.
Our night walks however are dark. Really dark. Darker than dark. Which sounds crazy, until you realise that you are walking under a thick canopy and the little light there might be from the stars or reflected from a cloud base is just about entirely shut out.
Nevertheless I took half a dozen shots with a long exposure malarkey. 30 seconds to be precise - so not a great speed to be shooting the mutts with, all you would get is the faint hint of a blur.
Apart
from a shot where some stars were in the field of view the rest of the
pictures were... dark. Inky black. Apparently it really is that dark. I
did however take a shot with poor light from a torch - and despite the
dubious light quality, the camera took a pretty good picture.Ah well, no moody night shots. I might look into getting a proper tripod - I have a baby one - and taking even longer exposure shots, but I suspect it won't help for the woods, but would be nice for other night time shots that aren't in quite so dark and challenging places.
The weather turned briefly warm again - and during a midnight walk with a clear sky I gave up traipsing around to lie down on a patch of grass and watch the stars above. I never get bored of looking at the stars - it's a real shame there is so much light pollution around that filters out a lot of the detail. A few clouds scudded overhead to give the weird sensation that the stars were wheeling around at breakneck speed. I think I lay there for 20 minutes or so enjoying the sensation of rushing through space.
Of course, every 5 minutes or so was interspersed by one of the mutts checking up that I was A OK via a wet nose in my face, and suitable licks to ears, nose and anything else they could reach.
After one particularly thorough slobbering from the boy I decided to call my star gazing to an end, called him a punk, and we stalked off through the darkness to make our happy way home - and reached our door by 2AM.
Thursday 6 September 2012
The Seasons Turn
Last week the first touch of Autumn made itself felt, the nights suddenly had a nip in the air, the chill causing the dogs to steam from their exertions.
Despite being short haired the mutts prefer the cold - they can run around expending crazy amounts of energy and not overheat. When conditions get to barely mild they huff, puff and pant - unwillingly to rein in their exertions, but paying the price of getting too hot.
The nights too have suddenly drawn close, over the course of a couple of weeks darkness has begun to settle much earlier. We are now leaving for walks at anything from 8pm onwards, either in the twilight or a little later it being fully dark.
Today however was another midnight walk with stars and moon both bright in the sky, the night mild and dry. The dogs for once were not crazy energetic and settled for some running around but mostly a good deal of sniffery. Perhaps their activity levels reflect myself - I ventured out suffering under a late summer cold and was not in any mood for foolishness or over exertion. I even debated not bothering with a walk for the day I felt that bad, but I always feel a responsibility to my goof balls that rain or shine, good or bad, we get out for at least one walk. I have only skipped a single day in a years worth of walks - not a bad record I think.
Hitting the woods with a stuffy head I let the dogs roam free and after a short walk found a clearing with a patch of grass to sit upon. Flicking my hood up I dozed in the night shrouded woods whilst the dogs explored around me. Occasionally one or the other would trot over and check up on me, a cold nose or a wet tongue investigating that I was still there and still ok whilst I for my part ignored my surroundings entirely, trusting to the mutts to keep one eye open and half an ear perked.
Sounds of the wild things rustled around us - a snapped twig, a shifting of undergrowth, but I barely noticed and instead thought feverishly on matters of work. A cool breeze spiralled over the grass and with it a faint whistle. Strange. Perhaps it had caught on the wind from somewhere else, sometimes the night does that.
A few minutes later an odd note of a whistle floated through the woods again. Someone was out there ? Whistling . . almost nervously. I pulled myself from my doze and called the mutts to me. I didn't want them hassling someone if they had a dog. Doing a good impression of extremely well trained dogs the pair instantly dropped what they were doing and trotted over to me.
Oddly the forest was quiet. No foot steps, no whistles, nada. Not a person then. After a few minutes I let the mutts wander again and returned to my doze and thought nothing more of the whistles. Just the usual odd night goings on.
Despite being short haired the mutts prefer the cold - they can run around expending crazy amounts of energy and not overheat. When conditions get to barely mild they huff, puff and pant - unwillingly to rein in their exertions, but paying the price of getting too hot.
The nights too have suddenly drawn close, over the course of a couple of weeks darkness has begun to settle much earlier. We are now leaving for walks at anything from 8pm onwards, either in the twilight or a little later it being fully dark.
Today however was another midnight walk with stars and moon both bright in the sky, the night mild and dry. The dogs for once were not crazy energetic and settled for some running around but mostly a good deal of sniffery. Perhaps their activity levels reflect myself - I ventured out suffering under a late summer cold and was not in any mood for foolishness or over exertion. I even debated not bothering with a walk for the day I felt that bad, but I always feel a responsibility to my goof balls that rain or shine, good or bad, we get out for at least one walk. I have only skipped a single day in a years worth of walks - not a bad record I think.
Hitting the woods with a stuffy head I let the dogs roam free and after a short walk found a clearing with a patch of grass to sit upon. Flicking my hood up I dozed in the night shrouded woods whilst the dogs explored around me. Occasionally one or the other would trot over and check up on me, a cold nose or a wet tongue investigating that I was still there and still ok whilst I for my part ignored my surroundings entirely, trusting to the mutts to keep one eye open and half an ear perked.
Sounds of the wild things rustled around us - a snapped twig, a shifting of undergrowth, but I barely noticed and instead thought feverishly on matters of work. A cool breeze spiralled over the grass and with it a faint whistle. Strange. Perhaps it had caught on the wind from somewhere else, sometimes the night does that.
A few minutes later an odd note of a whistle floated through the woods again. Someone was out there ? Whistling . . almost nervously. I pulled myself from my doze and called the mutts to me. I didn't want them hassling someone if they had a dog. Doing a good impression of extremely well trained dogs the pair instantly dropped what they were doing and trotted over to me.
Oddly the forest was quiet. No foot steps, no whistles, nada. Not a person then. After a few minutes I let the mutts wander again and returned to my doze and thought nothing more of the whistles. Just the usual odd night goings on.
Saturday 25 August 2012
Silent Storms
Dark has fallen and the glow of civilisation blots out the sky, the night indistinguishable from a hundred other nights.
But leave the lights of the city behind, venture into the primeval forests and the night takes on personality and a unique feel, no two ever being quite the same.
Silent lightning flickered in the night sky. It had been completely invisible beneath the street lighting, but out here in the dark woods the show of natural electricity was very apparent.
The woods lit up briefly, its inky blackness transformed for a split second into over exposed highlights and crisp black shadows as lightning raced overhead. The soft blur of darkness returned hiding details, shadows shifted.
The dogs for their part explored and snuffled unconcerned by the energetic weather.
The forest was still, a rare touch of a breeze across the tree tops making them sigh, but otherwise things were quiet. The storm that was sending out its flickering light had passed some time ago and now squatted on the far off horizon, too distant for its grumbles to be heard, but its lightning was readily apparent in the high dark.
The mutts galloped off into the deeper woods leaving me temporarily on my own. Lightning flickered again, the stark change in shadows making the forest seem to weave and grasp. Around me things moved. The night rustled with the faint sounds of shifting feet and scurries of passing animals. Whether the storm had set the unseen denizens to activity or the stillness made their sounds more apparent who can say.
The night is alive tonight I muttered to myself into the darkness. I followed the dogs deeper into the woods and as another flicker of lightning lit up the woods I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I suppressed a shiver.
Hmmm.
Bouncing around with their usual energy the mutts circled a broken tree stump, the remnants of some long fallen wooden sentry. Snuffling noses quested through the leaf litter leading their blindly following paws in a meandering path through the trees.
I paused by the stump to stretch and catch a breath.
The stump some 3 feet high had an indentation in its top - set at an angle it formed a large bowl like formation and within it, something odd.
In the pitch dark it was impossible to make out anything more than generalities, but something didn't seem to be quite right. I flicked on the torch.
A large toad blinked at me seemingly quite at peace in its wooden bowl. I pondered how on earth it had got 3 feet off the ground, it wasn't a hoppity frog, this was more of a lolloping toad.
The mutts returned, finished with their sniffing. The boy wondered what I was looking at - he couldn't see the toad from the floor. Rising on his back legs he gave the stump a once over - he still couldn't see the toad, but something sure did smell funny. Deep snuffles ensued and he worked his way around the tree trying to find a better position. Finally he found his best spot and snuffled the toad with his nose.
Don't disturb him I said.
The toad was unimpressed by being nudged by a wet nose and lazily walked to a higher point in the bowl.
The boy wanted the toad. Where had it gone. As he grew ever more energetic and started trying to jump on the stump I called him off and we slowly moved away.
The toad decided to quit its hidey hole and was acrobatically and none too elegantly climbing down the tree. Ho well.
We rounded near the edge of the forest. A sudden flicker of lightning from across the open grassy hill lit up the night starkly - at first I thought someone had switched on a large spotlight it was that bright and direct. The effect was less like lightning and more like some alien ray gun of death. Spielberg would have been proud to have its likeness in a film.
We trotted on and disappeared once more into the darker woods, and finally, with a slightly hurried pace we exited and went home.
But leave the lights of the city behind, venture into the primeval forests and the night takes on personality and a unique feel, no two ever being quite the same.
Silent lightning flickered in the night sky. It had been completely invisible beneath the street lighting, but out here in the dark woods the show of natural electricity was very apparent.
The woods lit up briefly, its inky blackness transformed for a split second into over exposed highlights and crisp black shadows as lightning raced overhead. The soft blur of darkness returned hiding details, shadows shifted.
The dogs for their part explored and snuffled unconcerned by the energetic weather.
The forest was still, a rare touch of a breeze across the tree tops making them sigh, but otherwise things were quiet. The storm that was sending out its flickering light had passed some time ago and now squatted on the far off horizon, too distant for its grumbles to be heard, but its lightning was readily apparent in the high dark.
The mutts galloped off into the deeper woods leaving me temporarily on my own. Lightning flickered again, the stark change in shadows making the forest seem to weave and grasp. Around me things moved. The night rustled with the faint sounds of shifting feet and scurries of passing animals. Whether the storm had set the unseen denizens to activity or the stillness made their sounds more apparent who can say.
The night is alive tonight I muttered to myself into the darkness. I followed the dogs deeper into the woods and as another flicker of lightning lit up the woods I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I suppressed a shiver.
Hmmm.
Bouncing around with their usual energy the mutts circled a broken tree stump, the remnants of some long fallen wooden sentry. Snuffling noses quested through the leaf litter leading their blindly following paws in a meandering path through the trees.
I paused by the stump to stretch and catch a breath.
The stump some 3 feet high had an indentation in its top - set at an angle it formed a large bowl like formation and within it, something odd.
In the pitch dark it was impossible to make out anything more than generalities, but something didn't seem to be quite right. I flicked on the torch.
A large toad blinked at me seemingly quite at peace in its wooden bowl. I pondered how on earth it had got 3 feet off the ground, it wasn't a hoppity frog, this was more of a lolloping toad.
The mutts returned, finished with their sniffing. The boy wondered what I was looking at - he couldn't see the toad from the floor. Rising on his back legs he gave the stump a once over - he still couldn't see the toad, but something sure did smell funny. Deep snuffles ensued and he worked his way around the tree trying to find a better position. Finally he found his best spot and snuffled the toad with his nose.
Don't disturb him I said.
The toad was unimpressed by being nudged by a wet nose and lazily walked to a higher point in the bowl.
The boy wanted the toad. Where had it gone. As he grew ever more energetic and started trying to jump on the stump I called him off and we slowly moved away.
The toad decided to quit its hidey hole and was acrobatically and none too elegantly climbing down the tree. Ho well.
We rounded near the edge of the forest. A sudden flicker of lightning from across the open grassy hill lit up the night starkly - at first I thought someone had switched on a large spotlight it was that bright and direct. The effect was less like lightning and more like some alien ray gun of death. Spielberg would have been proud to have its likeness in a film.
We trotted on and disappeared once more into the darker woods, and finally, with a slightly hurried pace we exited and went home.
Tuesday 14 August 2012
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