Wet Sunday

  Wet Sunday

 My Sunday morning walk was today one of damp air and cooling rains, Baptist Road was no more layered in hot tar but this morning the rains wash harvest straw from the verge and run to farm dyke which surrounds a small two acre field of dark rich fen soil that holds potatoes still green in tops.

   The regular deaf fen tiger who walks his chocolate lab and tells of Upwell past, was this morning noticeable by his absence and the whisker faced farmer with face that drops to one side after stroke stood watching the drizzle fall upon his half cut harvest from the doorway of his tractor shed, a nod of his head and shrug of the shoulders explained his disappointment.

   Two young pheasants glean the stubble along the north headland, their feathers dishevelled yet still their beaks pick and peck the damp grain and the smell of rain and wet straw filled the fenland air.

   Yet again the apple orchards were full of green woodpeckers, the wet weather bringing the worms they desire to the surface, the odd Jay flew from tree to tree and as ever I felt close to nature albeit soaked to the skin!