I usually cycle to Radley Lakes and padlock the bike near a side gate. This time, there were hundreds of tiny toadstools near the entrance.
Inside the gate were late-season blackberries in the same place where blackberries could be found in July and August.
The first glimpse of water was of Bullfield Lake through trees. Thrupp Lake is more accessible with clearings between the trees. The water first reflected green banks, then as the view stretched to a more distant shore, the water reflected the grey-blue sky and white and grey clouds.
A dragonfly hovered, moved on and hovered again. Michaelmas daisies were in flower.
I was not the only person there, but I was the only person walking alone. I said hello to two couples, the first walking a dog, the next without a dog. The lake does seem to have more visitors since the new car park was added during the summer.
When I got to the wooden walkway over the corner of the lake there were lots of ducks and coots – eating the surface weed that is thick there. With them were younger ducks, their adult feathers showing through the feathers of youth.
Water lily flowers were still blooming in another corner. The water usually laps the platform nearby, but now the water was some feet out and I could step down onto dry mud and twigs without sinking. The water has gone down after the dry summer. I wonder if it would ever dry up completely.
As I looked back across the wide lake, there were far more Michaelmas daisies on the near side.
There were cormorants on the nearest island and even more on the island beyond.
Further on, where the biggest excavated mound rises, a family was out. Dad was with his son, who has a small BMX, and mum was with the toddler, who has a push-along bike and making brrm brrm brrm noises. I climbed and heard more BMX bikes. Later one roared up the steep incline and down the far side.
I walked down to look at Orchard Lake on the far side and saw that it has dried to the point where it could almost be crossed by foot. A single heron was down at the far end.
Walking back, I looked through sedges to the twinkling of bright water where the heron must be. Then back through the big iron gates and to the gate where I left my bike.
