Your friendly correspondent went out for another country walk yesterday. The weather forecasters got it right. Morning cloud cover burned off to reveal a warm, blue sky afternoon.
I love to walk in unfamiliar territory, plodding along by-ways, paths and lanes that have never felt my boots before. This is why yesterday Clint and I drove north of Doncaster to a village called Kirk Smeaton. After parking the silver steed in Rectory Close, I donned those boots and set off to discover what sensory feast The Lord God Almighty had prepared for me to enjoy.
How delicious and heavy was the creamy hawthorn blossom, festooning ancient hedgerows as I walked south to the long abandoned Hull and Barnsley railway. Then eastwards along Flea Lane and up to White Ley Plantation. I was heading for the village of Norton but noticed that a windmill was marked on my Ordnance Survey map sheet.
It is in fact the old Norton Tower Mill, now part of a desirable country residence protected by CCTV cameras and a frothy-mouthed and rather loud Alsatian called Satan. There's a good boy Satan! WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!...But he didn't get me.
Plodding by more hedges heavy with May blossom, I noticed a gap that seemed to frame the old windmill and I snapped the following photograph. It was the best one I took all afternoon and rather than cause distraction with other images, I have chosen to share it with you in splendid isolation:-
Though I say this myself, I think it sums up this beautiful Maytime in northern England quite perfectly.
By four thirty I was back at Rectory Close in Kirk Smeaton ready for the drive home. There spaghetti with meatballs was waiting to be prepared for our evening meal out in the sunshine. Nurse Pudding was already home. Clint would have to make do with unleaded petroleum.