Walking weather

It rained for 2 days and 2 nights. Then on the third day the sun rose over the ridge of the eastern hill at 8.15am and stayed out all day.  We were told before we came that this area is in some kind of micro climate - lots of sunshine, but I have to be honest here and say I thought they were probably living with self-delusion - the kind of over optimistic weather lore that bed and breakfast owners in the Lake District demonstrate when the rain is teaming down outside and they're telling you that it was beautiful a few hours before you arrived. 

But I think I may have been invaded by the same delusion. It has been sunny a lot. And warm. The grass is still green and growing, there are a few insects - even the odd butterfly last week.  Walking weather. 

This is part of what we came for - to be able to walk from the door without having to face the A6 or the M6. A longer view, a wider perspective. And here it is. We walked yesterday over the hill to have a cup of tea with R's sister who lives in the next village. The photograph above is Brassington seen from the path and the one below is of Carsington Water on the other side of the hill.  As we walk and explore, it feels even more rich in potential for walking and being outside than we had imagined.

There are animals all around. Cows, sheep, horses. The smell of horse dung and cow pats. Cows mooing loudly, tiny calves in the field. Noisy birds everywhere, yesterday a squawking crow harassing a miaowing buzzard, the two of them falling and soaring under the blue blue sky, like fighting planes in an old war film.

And it isn't only the birds. This may be a country village but it isn't quiet. More rush hour traffic noise outside from the yellow road than we had expected. A happy birthday party in the village hall - which is about forty metres from our back door. Couldn't quite catch the tune - 1970s golden oldies. David Cassidy or Bowie maybe. Made me feel quite at home. Then there are the two pubs. Plenty of sounds there. More on this later. 

The neighbours continue to exceed our expectations of friendliness and kindness. When I did the classic just- moved-into-a-new-house trick of locking us out - something boiling dry on the erratic and incomprehensible Rayburn hotplate, threatening to burn the 200 year old house down - a very nice man helped us jemmy the door open with a crow bar. We've had invitations for a drink and meal already . . . plus there's an auction of promises thingy on at the village hall. Looks like my idea of a quieter life may have to be revised.