The other day I decided to go for a trundle along the main road out of the village to the Westwood, a lovely piece of open land where our town’s cows graze in the summer…..
I havn’t been there for quite a while as I’ve been happy trundling round and round the village lanes, but for some reason I decided on a change that day…
It was a miserable grey windy day, but unusually mild. Thankfully I didn’t put my ear muffs on but had automatically put my gloves on. I forgot the duck food, which didn’t go down well but, looking at the time, I think Peter the duck man had not long been, so their displeasure was short lived
The village has become snow drop paradise since the snow left and thousands upon thousands are scattered though the village. Some in huge drifts…
……..others simply scattered randomly in bunches…They look so wonderful from above, but the inside is equally amazing if you take a moment to look..
Across the traffic lights and out towards Beverley, that’s when the noise hit me. I havn’t worn my hearing aids, which combat my hyperacusis throughout lockdown; I havn’t needed to, such is the peace and quiet of the village. Wearing them in quiet places appears to exacerbate the silence bizarrely.
But that day was a Saturday and the road was busy with traffic. I found the roar of cars passing me by so loud, so disturbing. I don’t remember experiencing this throughout lockdown, or maybe I was just more sensitive to the noise that day. So despite the mildness, I put my hood up to try and dull some of the noise. Funnily enough my ear muffs would have done just that, but on a mild day as it was, me thinks I would have had sweaty ears 😂
Anyway, I persevered, hoping the traffic would die down. It takes about 45 minutes to an hour for me to walk to the golf course, my turning point. I could see the black mill in the distance
Others were out doing the same, exchanging hellos and smiles. Joggers speeding passed me making my pace feel like slow motion. But it was that noise, that was rattling my brain..
I came across a lovely funny figure perched on top of a gate post
As I crossed the cattle grid, one of my favourite shaped trees came into sight
Everywhere was waterlogged from all the rain we’d had of late
But the Mill stood proud and clear – the village Ginery is even named after it – Black Mill Gin…..
And Beverley Minster loomed large on the horizon in the distance
It stared to rain and I’d reached my turning point, so I turned and headed the same way back. Such was the noise, I tucked my camera inside my coat, I just wanted to get back to the peace once more. As I approached the village once more, I saw my first crocus of the year…
I was glad to get back to the peace of the village. The main road through can be busy with cars but the traffic calmers slow them down so it seems quieter. I don’t think I’ll trundle out of the village again for a while. The quiet lanes where I can hear the birds..
and peace of the pond, will do me just fine….