I walked out into the still, sultry air. The overcast sky threatened rain. But by the time we had reached the path the clouds had broken up, patches of blue sky were visible and a breeze stirred the air. The sun was skulking behind the veil of cloud, but it’s warmth still permeated the air.

I walked, shutting out the sound of traffic and other people along the path. Paying attention only to the movements from within the branches of the trees, among the leaves of the hedgerows and to the little dog that trotted along by my side.

It barely seemed to take any time at all to reach the marsh meadow. Entering through the gate, avoiding the nettles, I was greeted to the flurry of butterflies as they danced along the top of the grasses, seeking out wild flowers to feed on.

The sky seemed devoid of the Sand Martins which had been present a few days ago. But as I watched I saw two herons pass along the top of the tree line and came in to land at the far end of the marsh. From the meadow side I couldn’t see them once they were below the line of the trees.

We carried on across the meadow. the butterflies continued their dance and blackbirds and sparrows chattered away their vantage points in the hedgerow.  At the end of the field I could hear a robin singing from the taller trees that lined the path through the woods. We headed out of the meadow and into lane that took us into the woods. As I walked I took in the calmness of the day, as the dappled sunshine, which now streaked through the branches of the trees. lit the path ahead enticing us further into the trees.

Taking the path that lead down the incline, we made out way to the edge of the marsh, to the point I had seen the herons landing earlier. I didn’t get to see the herons again, but I had forgotten how lovely this corner was. Being at the bottom of the slope I rarely bother heading down that way in the wetter weather because it becomes too slippery to negotiate. But as it was warm and reasonably dry under foot, I decided to follow the lower path along the edge of the water to the exit.  It led us out at the bottom of the stairs,  onto the path which led behind the houses  and over the little bridge.

On our way past the steam  I heard the call of a coot, although couldn’t see it. The rushes were tall and the overhanging trees shielded most of what went on from the disturbance of people using the path.