Sunday, 16 August 2015


This morning I was woken at six o'clock by geese honking happily across Chew Valley Lake. I noticed through the walls of my tent that the sun was also already up, so I braved the cold and stuck my head outside. It was as though I had entered a Robert Frost poem, or a Swallows and Amazons story. A very fine mist lay on the low hills and the lake was illuminated by the ascending sun opposite my camping location. Slowly the water began to steam and the rising mist was blown gently across the surface. Small flocks of birds and ducks flew low over the lake, calling to each other, and from my vantage point I could see their reflection in the water, too.
     It was a photographer's dream, as the light danced on the water, the hills and the long grass, but all I had was my phone and so this will have to suffice:


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