Rediscovering the Shire.

I gave my newly refurbished leg its sternest test yet today – to walk the field which climbs for about 400 yards from the low lying Mill Lane up to the creepy copse on Church Lane. Doesn’t sound much, does it, but three weeks ago I wouldn’t have had a chance of making a quarter of that distance on rough ground and with such an incline.

The legs did just fine. What didn’t do so well were my lungs. Seems the lack of exercise over the last year and a half has taken a severe toll on my fitness levels, and both heart and lungs were pounding to a disturbing degree by the time I got to the top. But at least I did it without stopping, and practice will hopefully improve the situation.

By way of pleasant compensation, I got to meet with some old friends on the way: two horses and a donkey which were happy to be fed handfuls of hay from my side of the gate. I wondered whether they remembered me from before the inactive time. Do horses and donkeys remember people who feed them fresh hay? I wouldn’t know, but it’s a nice thought that they might.

I’m seeing changes, though, most notably in the Harry Potter wood at the top of my lane. The sections of path which used to be narrow and almost blocked by wild summer growth are now much wider and clearer, presumably to allow easier access to those who like to spend their Saturday afternoons shooting pheasants. That’s a shame; I like pushing through wild growth and watching out for the man traps set by newly rooted brambles, and I much prefer to watch pheasants running free in the woods and fields than flying, panic stricken, into the path of shotguns greedy for the dispensing of death and injury.

The worst moment, however, came when I got to the end of the wood where it opens onto a track bordered by a field of crops. There are two very old and very big ash trees in the hedgerow there, the biggest of which I estimate to be around 300 years old. It’s long been one of my favourite trees, and you should know by now how fond I am of trees. All of its massive bulk above 10ft has now gone, ripped away by either the wind or a lightning strike. Only one side branch remains, and it was sad indeed to see the ignominy to which it has now been brought.

On a lighter note, did I ever explain why I call it the Harry Potter wood? There are two reasons: Firstly, it has a rich and magical atmosphere which reminds me of the wizarding world of Harry Potter and his associates. Secondly – and perhaps more significantly – it’s the place where the Lady B did her best Hermione Granger impersonation some years ago. It counted for a lot.