The scouts look after the track because it runs to the campsite they use in the summer. Gordon made the site back in the 60’s when scouting was great and boys went to the country hanging on the backs of lorries. He’d come up to the track most days for just a few minutes scratching and patting at the gravel, bent with age. We thought he just loved the place.

Every evening the farmer drives down and turns at the end after feeding his sheep, and last month a young wood-craft couple slid their camper van half hanging off the edge and into the field. Chris had to pull them out with his mini digger, the driver was mumbling something about the gold.

But mostly it’s used by the animals. Cats from down the lane, Jasper the dog on a walk. I’ve seen badgers in the evening, squirrels and shrews. A vole crossed from the stream and up into the bracken and in early summer a brave young fox just out in the world like a teen in a new leather jacket.

This week it’s all mad in colour, smashed orange and red. Hazel, beech, ash, larch, alder, cherry, holly. There’s a bracken stand to the right and the willow we planted is yellow, a single buttercup lingers on the grass.

It’s just a few months since Gordon retired aged 90, and the track is full of pot holes and puddles.

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