Over the hills and far away.

To clear heads and exercise legs, we took the boys for a walk a few days ago. We picked up Eldest's friend along the way and set off for the hills. There was a brisk breeze which slapped at our cheeks as we piled out of the car and layered our walking gear on. Giddy dog was excited, squeaking and pulling on her lead as we strode  along the lane to the gated access to the moorland.

We were the only ones out. Youngest and the friend chatted  incessantly about anything and everything related to boy-favoured subjects. Ranging from harpoons to ground to air missiles, from fireworks to fast cars and everything else in between. Eldest added a word or two but seemed content to allow his brother to monopolise his friend.

Despite a definite autumnal chill to the air and the waning warmth of the sun, grasshoppers sang their last songs of the summer. Eldest managed to catch one too busy singing to notice him stalking up. A quick photo, then it binging off his finger and disappeared into the grasslands.

We chanced upon this handsome fellow. He obligingly let me burrow my face into his neck and inhale deeply. I know there is always a risk when snorting sweaty horse scent that the sweaty horse in question will object and bite, but, it is a risk I am prepared to take. I guessed he was a Percheron and was probably  quite used to being petted as we were not too far from a horse trekking centre. The boys too thought he was beautiful and made plans how they could keep a horse in the back garden (yeah right) I suspect they don't realise that a horse this size would eat the entire contents of the garden in a day. (I was able to stand beneath the crook of his jaw bone without having to bend my neck....) 

The weather constantly changed from brooding rained filled clouds to light whispy clouds that filtered the sun, making it feel cooler. We found a sunny spot and hunkered down for lunch. The boys wolfed their food and cheerfully slurped their tea. Within moments of finishing, they were ready for more walking, while I, with tea half drunk and feet resting was quite comfortable and not quite prepared to yomp off just yet!

I love the relics of old time farming. The gentle rusting over years and years of abandonment adds to their charm. In the brief flashes of the sun, these degenerating lumps of retired metal glowed with a warm russet hue.

We came off the hills as the sun began to sink a bit low and the air definitely became chilly. Our walk took us through the village of Kettlewell. Today it gave off the air of quiet rural contentment but during summer it is heaving with walkers and tea-room hoggers. Day trippers clad in brightly coloured walking clothes that have only ever walked from the car to the shops fill the narrow streets. Gaudy tourist attracting clapper boards jostle for pavement space, all trying to entice the wallets inside. But, as we walked through, it was just us.

We reached the car as the sun sunk completely, leaving a brilliant orange glow. Three hungry boys, still nattering, muddy dog and a feeling of release. Himself and I exchanged a look and smiled. A good walk.