Racing sun through the woods. — The South Downs and Beyond

It is misty in the Wildwood park and the air is heavy with water. The lying around wood soaks up the water, wet as anything, darkened in its colour. The air is almost still and it is very quiet, just the sound of the park rangers clearing up the leaves and roosters crowing. There is a sign at the entrance that some animals are lethargic in December, and the same can certainly be felt about nature around us, although we know that this peaceful serenity can be shaken off at any point by a winter storm.

Walking through the woods we come across a few streams. I cannot help but stop and look at mottled rippling water, flowing over and under things, revealing objects within and reflecting objects without. The shadows create a sharp albeit delicate geometric shapes on this moving surface.

This is probably one of the most magical moments I experienced on that walk. After almost three hours spent walking around the wet Wildwood Park and some nice food consumed, Arthur is very tired. Tiredness is more pronounced in toddlers, their very young bodies need the miraculous restoration powers of sleep more than we adults do. Arthur is wrapped up warm in a coat, scarf and gloves, and within 10 minutes of us walking home, he drifts off to sleep in the carrier. It is raining lightly, and our hands and faces are wet from mist and rain. It amazes me how it does not bother Arthur and how blissfully peaceful he looks in his sleep. It takes me back to my own childhood, when I could so easily fall asleep on the grass at our summer house garden. There is something magical about falling asleep outdoors, when cold air caresses your lungs and your whole body absorbs all the goodness of earth and the magical woodland spirits are looking over you. The woodland seems strangely quiet to our ears, so used to Arthur's chattering.

Tree bark caught by the tree branches. A hammock for a beautiful woodland fairy.

I always stop to look at the rain drops on the tree branches. They are everywhere, there are thousands of them in the woods, and yet they might all disappear in a week time.

Water logged foot path.

It's getting darker in the woods, it is harder to see the detail. We are surrounded by the thin and thick black branches of trees and more water. It feels like the sky is closing in on us as the day becomes frail and ghostly.

As we come out of the woodland, we find this autumnal brown hat, very one with its surroundings. Who lost it there? And will they come back for it? Just like everything else around it, it is getting wet, shimmering with rain drops in the fading light.