I had to be outside. A primeval urge pulled me like a magnet up to Moel y Gaer hill fort. At 10pm there was no-one else about. I stepped over black slugs on the grassy path to the top of the hill and stood on the ramparts. When the wind stopped buffeting me for a moment and I could hold my binoculars steady, I could just about see Blackpool Tower lit up and in the foreground, the steely River Dee and all the glowing lights of Liverpool. I turned around and traced the dark, gentle mounds of the Clwydian Range, like soft scoops of chocolate ice cream. And then the rain came, great big spots thwacking on my down jacket. The wind picked up and blew the long grass in waves across the flat topped hill fort and murderous clouds covered the wavy-edged moon.
I circled the ancient ramparts, paying my respects to Mother Nature on this longest day, apologizing for anything I may have done to upset her. I did squish a slug last night as it made its way over a fresh green lettuce leaf in my veg patch. Normally I lob them over the hedge. When I had completed the circle, I headed down the hill with just enough light to avoid squishing any more slugs.
A blackbird sang in the gorse scrub, oblivious of the rain and the wind and the murderous clouds.
I’m going up again on Sunday to see the Supermoon.