PUDDLED.

The great watering cans in the sky had a right old party this morning, a noisy one too!

(It's getting ever harder trying to find ways of describing rain.)  The dog was not amused because I refused point blank to go out and get pummelled by pluvial missiles.

When eventually we ventured out mid afternoon, the mountain road was puddled ...

The gate with a stile to a footpath down through a local farmers land, was ... puddled.

The lovely gentle footpath or the old "roman road" as it's locally called, was ... puddled.

The wonderfully old beech trees along the boundary were getting an easterly bashing ...

sheep were sheltering behind the security of the old stone walls, can't say as I blame them.

They were also seeking some sort of wind break in amongst the very tall green bracken,

<<< which was so tall you couldn't even see the ewes and now well grown lambs unless they put their heads up above the fronds, curious to see who was mad enough to be out and about apart from themselves. Some ewes that had escaped the big gather, still had a full, thick woollen coat and looked very heavily rain drenched.

And ... at the turning point of our foray into the water ways ... another gateway, puddled.

Not that the mad mutt minded at all, he was happily splashing through even the muddiest of places, even lying down and rolling over in some of these temporary, tiny ponds. I feel as though the only footwear I've worn for months now is good old Dunlop wellies!

Then just as we got back to where the car was parked, I found our first golf ball sized puff ball. Delicious when young and the flesh is still white ... but only the one? No doubt, weather permitting there will be more to come, but they are a sure sign of autumn. I can only hope, having eaten the first ripe blackberries just the other day that we get a reasonable fungal season to add to the autumnal harvest, but we need drier days ahead!