Moley

We passed the small yet tall stand of Eucalyptus trees at the site of Holm Hill cottage.  A mole or moles has been at work, tunnelling furiously they have left an abundance of earthy mounds; on one mound a long piece of clay pipe stem stands out, white against the earthy hues.  This got my attention and soon I was poking about through the protruding soil. There were the red fragments of housing brick and sandy slices of mortar both expected from a dwelling site; looking beyond them there is pottery sherds, bone fragments and  rusty nails.  All familiar on any post med to modern site.  I wonder how long there had been occupation on this site.  The woods are warm today.  Highland water sings as it travels, happily chattering as it flows over gravels and obstacles; it's joined by a myriad of birds all competing to be heard. Continuing through an area of young, oaks in the direction of Acre Down, it begins to snow!  Now, this snow was not fluffy flaked, rather tiny soft ball, like not properly formed hail; coming down quite fearously for a while, it began to cover the ground, before stopping abruptly.  By my return to Highland water the weather had turned full circle and a warm sun filled the sky.  I lay some small logs against a trunk build for comfort, gather a heap of ferns and create a comfy seat, from where I can see and hear the stream as well as being afforded a wide view of the surrounding woodland, a patchwork of blocks of coniferous and deciduous trees of varying ages.  I sit for a while, taking the air and tranquility. Nice.