I pass this gate quite often while taking Titchika for her walk. The gate divides two fields: one for dog-walkers, the other for arable farming.
Perhaps the word “fence” would be a more appropriate description of it than “gate”, as it hasn’t been opened in many years.
The gate is covered with barbed wire, the posts and the banks of the hedgerow are covered with nettle, bramble and fern.
On a warm day, we often head for the shade, beneath the trees, and admire the view from the gate.
At the moment, the field beyond is thick with wheat, almost ready for harvest.
In the bottom of the valley, there is a wood where pheasant can be heard, calling-out with that odd sound they make.
On the distant flank of the opposite side of the valley, there is a horse paddock; when they are there, the horses look magnificent, almost majestic, even from this distance.
It’s just one everyday thing we take for granted . . .

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