Wandering round places with the dog is a thing I do fairly often. To avoid losing our marbles with boredom from going to the same places every single day, I try to bundle the idiot into the car on occasion and go to places slightly further afield.
Sometimes it’s new places, other times it’s places I’ve been to plenty of times but not for a while.
It just means Chase gets new things to sniff and I get to have some different things to look at whilst he sniffs rocks furiously as if they hold the secret to life, the universe, and everything in it, if only he could smell them from the correct angle.
A couple of weeks ago I decided to take him to Grinshill – I hadn’t been back there for a number of years, but it’s somewhere I used to visit back when I lived a little closer. There’s an animal rescue nestled at the base of the hill that was a regular feature in our school fundraisers, and I volunteer walked dogs there a few times too – always dreaming that one day I’d be taking one of them home forever.
It felt oddly satisfying to return there a lifetime later with my own dog, who may have come from a different rescue, but was a rescue all the same. It felt a little bit like catching my past-self’s eye and saying ‘Hey look! We got there in the end!’ as we walked past the rescue gates together. (Check out Grinshill Animal Rescue to find out more. They are always in need of support and donations to help look after the animals in their care whilst they search for their forever homes.)
It was a cool, grey kind of day, right at the start of the season beginning to turn. There were oranges and browns beginning to creep in, but mostly everything was shades of green with the odd splash of vibrant colour coming from Autumn Crocuses in the grass, and from the heather and gorse up on the top of the cliffs.
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, I abseiled down that rock face with the Girl Guides. It doesn’t look much in that picture, and even standing at the bottom it doesn’t seem too bad, but from the top it feels a million miles high because it is also right at the top of the hill.
Look at the shot next to it – that’s Chase stood at the top (a little along from that particular rock face, but close enough for you to see what I mean). The cliff does not go all the way to the bottom of the hill, but it sure feels like it does when you’re up there looking over the edge!
There’s something magical about being up high and looking out over the countryside below. It always makes me feel like I’m in some sort of storybook about to embark on a Grand Adventure (does stumbling down the hill I’m stood on count as a Grand Adventure? Because that’s usually what happens next.)
Chase looked adorably smug when we got to the viewpoint, which actually came right near the start of our walk, because we started almost at the top of the hill, then went down, round and back up again.
I do find the rich red of Shropshire sandstone (and the resulting red tint to the sand/clay/soil) very comforting. It’s a common sight here in walls and older structures, and I just find it warming and soothing when I see it.
Much nicer than concrete grey that’s for sure!
Carole Finds Her Wings 