Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
– ‘Wake me up when September ends‘ by GreenDay
Today was a walk of two halves. In that when I left the house this morning on a misty start to the day, little did I know that the day would end in the middle of a second walk high in the woods of the North York’s Moors national park at Kilburn.
This morning was misty, an ethereal fog that looked like a scene from a Victorian London suburb as I walked to a small grassed area with a little copse that is a favourite ball run and rabbit hunt of Hiro’s. The sun was trying to shine through the mist, giving off this otherworldly feel about this very familiar place. The dew on the grass sparkled around us as we walked. The sound of wood pigeons mixed with the early morning cars as the day began.
The little wooded copse was noticeably clearer, following my daughters and my litter picking last night where we filled to bin bags full of rubbish and debris left by teenagers. The blot on this little green haven, now just that little bit cleaner.
There’s something about a misty morning with a breaking sun that brings out the mystical. The high green fence around the astroturf was completely covered in sparkling webs that glistened in the growing heat and light. This incredible feat of endurance on such an enormous scale was comparable to some of the great art installations you might see in the tate gallery. The attention to detail and the sheer scale was quite unbelievable. It’s moments like this where I can forget the worries of the day before and the hours ahead and find myself just marvelling at the seemingly insignificant magics that are always there if we but take the opportunity and the time to look.
It was later in the evening when I found myself back out with my daughter and Hiro. Both of us armed with our recently varnished walking sticks, made from wood here at Kilburn woods. We took a path we haven’t walked for a while. The path took us higher into the hills around Kilburn. As we walked, my daughter incessantly chatting and asking strange and wondrous questions. From time to time, I paused and turned round to see the orange/red sunset searing through the pine trees.
The path felt somewhat familiar and reminded us of a path we took earlier in the year, yet the difference of spring, then summer created a freshness that was both beautiful and confusing.
It was so quiet, we couldn’t hear any birds, and as we reached the peak of the path and stared back over Thirsk surrounding areas, my daughter gasped and faux dropped her walking stick to demonstrate how amazed she was at the sight. I’m often overwhelmed by how lucky I am living here, and frustrated by how little I spend time in places like this. Our descent into the wood once more took us into the depth of undergrowth. My favourite part of a woodland walk is to be towered over by trees and feel completely enclosed. A feeling of being lost in the middle of nowhere and yet at the same time in my perfect element. When we once more found what appeared to be our regular path. It became clear that we hadnt been here before. This unsettled my daughter who thought we might be lost, and although I felt uncertain of exactly where I was, I was able to gain my bearings, reassure my daughter, and begin to walk in the general direction of our car.
Then, we stopped, a roe deer was walking through the field near the path. My daughters first response was that she thought it looked of as it walked through the field, aware of us, but not concerned. I stood with my daughter as she watched her first deer in the wild before we continued our walk, my daughter uncertainty fading as was the daylight when our path became more familiar, and we found ourselves back on more comfortable footing in our favourite wood, another memory safely stored in our hearts.