On my way to Brenchley, I stopped at the Hartlake Bridge over the River Medway. The russet sky was reflected in the slow water. Above, the waning Moon and Jupiter were the remnants of the night. I met Dee and Maisie dog on Pixot Hill and we started a walk over three hills: Brenchley, Horsmonden and Goudhurst. The orange Sun was now rising and silhouetting the trees and oast houses at the Lookout on the hill. We followed the Sun through orchards now picked and others waiting, downhill to the Furnace Pond where iron was forged by John Browne for guns four hundred years ago for the wars around the world. Now it is a peaceful haven for wildlife and fishing. Bulrushes and reeds line the banks; ducks and geese quietly feed and a gentle mist rises from the water. Then uphill to Horsmonden and a ramble through Sprivers with yellow Agrimony edging the path and over the Lamberhurst road to hop gardens, now picked but a few left to reminisce and keep for childhood memories.
Through more orchards of Gala and Golden Delicious and Brambleys and others; the boughs bowed with the burden of the fruit. A field of Suffolk sheep were (not) being serviced by a ram, but he had only marked three. He seemed more concerned about feeding himself! We met some boys burdened with great back-packs on an adventure for the Duke of Edinburgh Award. They seemed tired and a little weary, but were polite and friendly. We detoured to Horsmonden Church (St. Margaret's, which is 2 miles from the village) for a break. The porch front was decorated with harvest fruits and inside were preserves, jams and loaves. We sat on a bench in the churchyard overlooking the peaceful Tiese Valley, drinking tea and appreciating the view.
The morning remained cool and breezy in exposed areas as we made our way over the Tiese, running fast there after the night's rain and then uphill again; the steep climb to Goudhurst. There were White Dead Nettle, still flowering on a sunlit bank, the summer's last vestiges of bloom refusing to yield yet. The hedgerows were bursting with blue Sloes (extremely bitter!), Haws and Blackberries. Then out of breath and thirsty, we sat by the village pond for another break.
The way back took us through Trottenden Farm, where a cow (a Red Poll?) was resting on the ground with her calf by the stile in the sunshine. As we had Maisie, and danger threatened, we made a wide diversion to avoid any trouble. Mother was very affectionate toward her calf; she nuzzled and paid a great deal of attention to it. We went back over the Tiese and uphill again through Alpacas and Speckled Faced sheep, through more apples, and watched a Buzzard glide high until we came back onto the High Weald Trail, which was our way down. The last of our tea was taken in Sprivers in the woodland, under a Sweet Chestnut tree. The nuts should be ready in a couple of weeks or so!
The day had warmed considerably and the Sun was on our backs as we were climbing through Hononton Farm. At the top of the hill near Brenchley, I filled my bag with apples, as there wasn't far to get back to the car. Perfect for an apple crumble and custard.
Sól colludes with Máni as
The light fades, the greening fades.
The colours of decay are beautiful and deadly
And trespass the landscape with arrogance.
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