This is a continuation of the walk we began in the last post. (The Dog Which Sat At My Feet)
We are walking along a cliff - not a high one . . and not a steep one either because, every year, some of it crumbles. The top is getting thinner. There are fewer places to put our feet. In some places the earth has sheered of. In others, it's become almost a slope down to the sea - but a cliff, none the less.
The ground is dry and flaking away from the roots of plants.
At first, we can look down at the little coves and pools below. The piles of rocks are to protect the land from erosion. England is shrinking!
The track is narrow, the grasses rise
and in a while we are pushing our way through tall reeds.
They are taller than my head and are probably taller than yours (unless you are a super-model or a tennis player).
In places, they have been burnt. I don't know why. (There has been controlled burning of gorse not far away and children/teenagers sometimes light bonfires . . . because . . . because that's what they do! The weather has been hot and the ground dry, with lots of dead grasses and seed heads . . . )
But new growth is hearty.
We find a place with a good view - so we can sit in the sun and watch kite surfters.
Perched on the edge, we can look down onto a specially interesting beach / patch of grey, sticky, boot-sinking mud.
See the round things which look like car tyres? They are Septarian Nodules; part of the fossil history of the area. I've zoomed in and scale is hard to judge from up here - but they are probably about eighteen inches across. (We'll make a special trip down to that grey landscape and see them closer in another post.)
The wind is not strong but it's ruffling everything. Almost every flower that isn't flush with the earth trembles on its stalk. They don't want their photos taken!
But these stay nearly still enough.
But now it's time to open the flask, and poor the tea and chat with . . .
You didn't think I'd come alone, did you?