Foggy days

Once a week I deliver some newsletters from church to various people who can't currently attend services. There aren't many but they are rather spread out. I'm often tempted to use my car but then I give myself a talking to and remind myself that the exercise (almost four miles in total) is good for me. The 'talking to' had to be extra motivational on this particular day when there was a damp mizzle and low cloud hanging over the area. But there is no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing (!) so I put on my waterproof trousers, boots and jacket, cosy hat and gloves and - looking less than glamorous - set off on the trek. 

The mist obscured the usual view across the valley. It also has the odd effect, it seems to me, not only of muting the view but also curiously muffling sounds. I've discovered all sorts of little shortcuts in the past year of local walks. This little path ultimately leads to Gordon Terrace where most of the local shops are, and it's the back of the shops you can see. Saltaire is down in the valley, shrouded in mist. Normally from this point you'd be able to see right up to Hope Hill on the skyline but not on this day. 

The playground at Hirst Wood was empty, apart from a few black-headed gulls careening about. You could just see as far as the trees that line the canal - and beyond that, a mysterious blank.  I do like the way they've left the old stone gateposts at the entrance to the recreation ground, a relic of a time when this was just a field in quite a rural area.  

I extended my walk with a loop through Hirst Wood. As so often, the fog seemed less pronounced in the shelter of the trees but there was nevertheless a pleasing contrast between the bluish tones of the trees and sky and the russet hints in the leaves on the ground, now mushed down into thick, squelchy mud. A lone young beech tree still had a few coppery leaves. I felt as though I'd stumbled upon a secret dancer, twirling in the woodland glade.