Bratley from Backley

Across the wet valley in which Blackensford Brook is born, the ancient Bratley Wood as seen from Backley Enclosure. The forest was wet today, wet just hung there in the air and clung to everything, every fern and tuft of grass. The wet air muffled the forest, all you could hear was water, dripping from the boughs, flowing through the gullies, rattling over gravel and bursting over the detritus dams which frequently appear in the forest streams. That and the noise of your feet splashing with every step. Did I mention it was wet. Still, it was nice out.