'The Autumn Leaves.......

We seem to have been having rather a pleasant walk this particular morning, the year wears on and autumn takes a real hold on the forest.
We’ve been lucky because, although cold, the sun is making every effort to brighten the day, and the leaves that remain on the trees are responding, positively glowing in places.

 

The Boy Bing, has once again patiently paused as the old wheezer behind attempts to keep up, and our efforts are now being rewarded by the frequently changing light, and the response of the trees to this.

We have settled into one of our regular strolls. These have become very dear to me despite the effort I have to make to keep up with the young’un.

‘There’s a good spot guv.’

The lad has noticed a rather good stump for me to rest on, and as I sit, he is already 'gently' reminding me that a halt in the walk indicates a treat or two. He does this by attempting to thrust his 'hooter' into one of my coat pockets.

‘Ah, Bing would you be a requiring a small treat?’

‘Or two guv…..or two.’

I fumble in my left-hand pocket and he frowns, knowing full well that the treats this day are in my right pocket.

‘Come on old poop. Cough ‘em up.’

I repeat the process by delving into my right-hand pocket, and he gives me a wink of approval.

Nosh is transferred to the gently receiving mouth.

The crows are being particularly ‘squawky’ today, and we’ve spotted several magpies - I gave up counting them as I’m not sure how unlucky the rhyme is as we reach at least eight or nine!

Bing nudges my knee and gives a low 'woof', my cue to pass over the second treat.

A single bell can be heard tolling, but by the time I’m aware of this I’m not sure if its telling me the hour or announcing a funeral, across the forest.

‘You’re a bit quiet today guv.’

‘Am I Bing?’

‘Cor I should say so. You usually mutter away about the mud, or tripping over branches and such.’

‘Do I?’

‘You know you do ancient puffer.’

‘I suppose I do.’

‘Oh yes, it wouldn’t be proper walk with you if I didn’t hear you huffing and puffing, and generally muttering about something or other or such like and so forth.’

‘Good heavens.’

A sudden gust, and hundreds of leaves; confetti like; shower down around us. Many different shades of autumn cascading down and gently coming to rest on the forest floor, adding to the wonderful carpet we’ve been walking across.

Bingo has a good shake, and three or four leaves depart him, for the carpet.

‘I think old gaffer, that before we trundle on our way…..’

‘Yeeees?’

‘There’s a certain chap, not far from you, who could be persuaded to nibble one last goody before we pootle home.’

‘M’mmmm.’

‘Come on guv, you know it makes sense.’

‘Sense?’

‘Certainly aged poop, certainly.’

I can hear Alison saying…..'You’re like putty in his hands’
and of course I am, and of course the lads tail wags for a third time.

As we walk home, I suddenly hear myself mutter as I trip over a half hidden branch, and notice the lads grin and a brief wag of his tail……..

........all’s well again.