A wash with colour

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It may be a grey day,  but Fridaywoods certainly aren’t grey.

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The browns of autumn and winter are gone, replaced by shades of green, white and purple, yellow buttercups break the greens of the grass.
I’m suddenly struck by the fact that I’m minutes from civilization but you wouldn’t know it.
The violence  of razor wire reminds me I’m meters from the only remaining military prison in the uk.
A rabbit attracts Stella’s attention, and she hurtles off with virtually no hope of catching it.

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More colour attracts my eye,but I’ve no idea what I’m looking at, my mother in law, Lou or her aunt would know.
We come into a clearing,where we’ve 4 options, but we turn left, where some 300 metres away I see a white 5 bar gate, back onto the lane.
Somewhere in the distance a dog barks, making Stella pick her ears.
Various trees surround us, I can pick out the mighty Oaks, but still not sure at the others.
This pricks a memory, wildlife treasure hunts mum used to make, 10 things for me, my sister and brother to find, the one who found the most won, somehow it always turned out to be a draw.
Back out, onto the lane I’m confronted with parked cars, I’m aware there maybe other dog owners nearby.

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A tree which looks to be dead, has signs of life, with green twigs lighting up apparently dead branches.

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These signs remind walkers that they may stumble on ordnance, which they’d be foolish to touch.
A passenger jet breaks the silence, in the grey sky, which camouflages it. 
Birdsong grows louder and more varied. A branch laying in the rd, brings memories of my mischievous youth, in which I might turn the branch to block the rd.
Red tape hangs in the trees

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signage of some sort of army activity.
I look around, and pick out signs of obvious ambush points, harping back to my brief but good times in the Raf.

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Foxgloves? punches a purple into the greenery, I turn the corner and sight what I can only describe as a fernery, Stella seems immune to some nettles she chases another rabbit into.
In the distance, and somewhere above the double thwack of a chi nook breaks the silence.
Now a siren, punches through the renewed silence, then falls silent itself, to suggest it’s arrived to assist in whatever way it may be needed.

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The final fork, I take the left, leading me 5 minutes to back home.
I know this is a break from my normal content but sometimes you have to go with the urge.

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