Today the sky was cloudless when I hit the road early evening, and so blue you felt you could wrap it around the earth and render it an ocean entire.
My running shoes are dying. I need a replacement, but am internally discussing whether I need runners, hybrids or trails. My runs are both on and off road. I've confused myself unto the ends of the earth, but whatever the case, I need something better than these.
As ever, the owl road starts in the cemetery, where I scope out all the emerging spring flowers. Primroses have now appeared, far too early like the crocuses, squill and lesser celandine I've seen. I've got a commission to write about the perils of an early spring.
The snowdrops are present and correct for the time of year, and are getting more numerous seemingly with every passing minute. I find tracking spring through the cemetery a beautiful experience.
After the cemetery, the Sustrans 64 cycle path, sometimes bleak, sometimes beautiful in itself, but safe and a useful route to many places I explore.
I explored the small stand of trees where the homeless man had been living in a tent, horribly muddy and thickly carpeted with moisture loving moss, lushly green. I wasn't unhappy with the chap living here per se, but did he have to leave such a horrendous mess.
And now on to the Owl Road itself, the route slashing through post insutrial and agrarian landscapes, a rough track leading to tarmac, all lit gold by the falling sun. But no damn owls as ever, in fact very little bird life on any kind. Wasn't even wearing my scary hi-viz.
From the Owl Road, turn right into Hawton, past pigeons making merry with farm crops, and past the church where a kestrel flew off the tower just before I took the picture.
From here, it's back into Newark, and across the Sconce Park and the Civil War earthwork that guarded the approaches to the south of the town.
From here, it is but a short hop home...to the hot hot bath!