Rubbish!

I was faced on arrival in the forest with sight of disposable BBQ detritus spread liberally about; what's wrong with these frak wits, they make the effort to get out to the forest, presumably because they find the natural surroundings congenial, then leave the same place in a state.  As I continued walking I was struck by more rubbish and made a note to self to remember a bin bag next time.  Visiting the young isolated Oak, whose surrounding supplied many Ceps in autumn, I found that the Oak continued to provide... at the base of the trunk, caught in low shrubbery, was a recycled bin bag, new and folded.  A sign? I set about collecting any rubbish I could access as I processed; the bag filled.  Picking up the paper came naturally, although collecting bottles and cans was accompanied by a strange mix of feelings,  including guilt; I knew that clearing up was right, although my profession is involved with searching for ancient rubbish to interpret, analyze and learn from and here I was removing it from the record for future archaeologists.  Funny how your mind wanders. 

The sun was warm and bright, the colours vivid, contrasting.  Red Rise Brook flowed clear, no longer the torrent of the previous seasons, now clear waters moved briskly over gravel beds, occasionally forming dark pools around tree stumps and bends in meanders.  The ponies looked happier with the improvement in weather as the grazed the brook banks.