We skipped breakfast and headed out for Greenstead Green. First along the river, through seventies suburbia, and finally into the fields.
A pair hikers made us feel underdressed and underprepared — a feeling only enhanced by the March wind. Their smallish dog turned out to be large-ish cat, and not theirs at all.
Next, pathway-spotting in fallow fields — telltale flattened Earth and grass, or a possible signpost on the far edge of a field.
The occasional misstep — some due to outdated ordnance survey, others self-inflicted (why walk one side of a field when you can walk three?) — a private garden all small trees and daffodils — perfect picniclands.
Before long, Greenstead Green for lunch before the return leg — a different, more direct route back to our lodgings, though not before a diversion of hungry goats eager for unreachable grass.
The wind bit all the more before the shelter of the suburbs. Finally, a shower of blossom.
- One rabbit
- One cat (as mentioned)
- One stile
- Three churches
- A curious tower (so far uninvestigated)
- More field than strictly necessary