From Minehead to Simonsbath

My spirit lifted as I entered Minehead, Pip and I pleased to see Stuart and Michelle.  It didn't matter that it was my birthday, those days of celebration have passed me by. I worked out that last year I was unceremoniously dumped on the eve of my birthday, and the two years before that conned into ending my celebrations early for the sake of a lie. Birthdays are really just another day.

On Tuesday Pip and I made our way to Simonsbath; the vivid colours of Exmoor in the Autumn taking my breath away. I drove slowly and let the full tilt Range Rovers pass. 

Simonsbath was awash with colour and new life under the beech leaves.

Every now and again I'd catch the scent of the greening moss, eventually through exploring, the perfume covered my hands.  Pip was in his element, taking the lead on the leaf strewn path.

Over the moor I caught a glimpse of a stag, but too far away to take a photo.  We ended  our walk with a view of the River Barle. 

Spring in October

Spring in October

The October rain
Transforms the browning moss
Into a carpet of veridian.
Draped over twigs and branches
And dripping, moisture soaked,
Releasing a sweet, earthy scent
I carried throught the forest.

The October rain
Wakens the browning moss,
Which yawns and stretches
Over twigs and branches,
Blanketing the trees with veridian.
The spring, collecting mossy drops,
Trickles over clay soaked stones,
Weaving through the ferns and moss,
Releasing a sweet, earthy scent
I carried through the forest.

Haiku from Simonsbath

The October rain

Transforming the browning moss

To veridian 

Tick, Rocked

Half term and I'm embarking on a journey. My starting point was London and spending the night at my Grandfathers where the resonating sound is the ticking of a small clock next to my bed.