Deer Summer, please visit again soon...

As the summer fades to a fond memory, I make sure I find time to embrace any remaining sunny days.
The sand quarries on the hills are a favourite haunt. Small lakes, pioneering rough scrub, and Gorsy slopes, are framed by mature woodland in a sea of green fields dotted with church topped villages.

Of course my romantic eye chooses to ignore the semi industrial elements, but not the signs warning me of impending doom. The silt pools ARE dangerous, and you really have to watch what you're doing. There's something a little concerning about a 6 foot sign warning you of quicksand that has sunk up to its neck.

It's these pools and the new growth on the silt that brings the deer to graze. I often see Muntjac, but there is also a herd of Fallow deer. I'm impressed how such a large animal in good number remain unseen throughout the day. I can spend hours following the tracks trough the woods and across the sands, it's fun to see what they've been up to.

This is the wallow hole that they visit almost daily. In its base is the perfect imprint of a large deer that has been lying on its side. The forest floor when disturbed sends up clouds of mosquitoes, and a coating of mud helps prevent bites. I was tempted to try it, but instead opted for higher mozzy free ground...

Up on the hill I settled for a while to watch over the surrounding land, hoping to spot some wildlife. The Buzzard screeching a warning overhead, combined with my lack of patience, meant I had no luck.

I knew the deer were out there somewhere in the mist comforted trees. Maybe it wasn't a lack of patience but more my rumbling tummy that sent me on my way.

Down in the mature woodland I managed to forage some Sweet Chestnuts while I was waiting for the water to boil for my coffee.

A quick simmer and they hit the spot for a yummy snack.

Hedgerow Hazelnuts provided some perambulant picnicking...

... as I headed homeward through the picture postcard scenery.

"All Around the Wrekin", or, "The long way round"....

The Wrekin is a well known landmark hill and is easy to find despite the unhelpful signs.
At 1335 feet it is a bit of a slog, but pretending to admire the view halfway up allows you to catch your breath. It really doesn't help your self esteem, when, as you slowly puff your way ever upwards, local athletes using the climb as part of their training come bounding past like gazelles....
As I got ever higher the view unfurled itself, mist draped across the valleys.
'The Wrekin' is a corruption of the ancient English 'Uriconion', a Celtic name.
For some time after the Norman invasions it was called Mount Gilbert after a hermit that once resided on its slopes.
The summit is occupied by an iron age hill fort thought to be built by the Cornovii tribe, the same people that created the huge fort of 'Castle Ring' in Cannock Chase. The Wrekin was their capital.
To the West, the tips of the Welsh mountains poked through the low cloud.
We sat atop the sun warmed rock peak eagerly awaiting the spectical of the sunset.
I'd hoped to get a great photo of the hills, mist filled valley and perhaps the snaking glint of the meandering River Severn in the golden evening light, but the clouds rose and obscured the view.
We drank our flasked coffee and nibbled some Hazelnuts I'd roasted on a small fire.
Homeward bound, the toposcope more helpful than the local signs, we headed off....