Black

It was early when we set out, the forest was dour and still blanketed grey, which suited my mood,...this morning I was Jonny Nice Painter. I trudged down Rock Hills towards a misty Red Rise feeling sorry for myself, trailing a grey cloud of my own creation. Through the gorse clumped landscape of Red Rise Furze Brake we reached the open woodland of Red Rise Shade and the stream; Geoff never says no to water, and insists on doing his dog-odile impression, just his eyes above the water with his nose blowing bubbles. Funny bugger. The stands were illuminated by a diffuse light, a hidden sun shone through the thinning veil of autumn mist, giving the scene a magical air... lovely. You can understand why our ancestors held streams and wet places in high regard. I stood breathing it all in, taking some time to tune into the forest, the sights, sounds and smells of the surrounding woodland. Tranquillity reigned through Red Rise, quiet and still other than the babbling stream and an occasional bird. I could've settled it, though we were on a mission, so after a while we said farewell to the stream and moved off towards Burley Old and the wider forest beyond. Standing there I must have inhaled some of that tranquillity,  as walking off I felt lighter, my mood lifted and my demeanour completely changed. Powerful medicine nature, fast acting too.