Embraced by Mist and Silence on a Chilly Autumn Morning in Lynn Glen.
There’s something deeply calming about setting out on a walk just as the world is waking. My walk around the Lynn Glen circular began in that perfect kind of silence you only get on a cold misty morning. The air had a bite to it, sharp enough to make me pull my collar up, but it felt fresh and clean as though the night had scrubbed the landscape while no one was watching.
Mist clung to the trees and hovered low over the paths, softening everything in sight. It blurred the edges of the woodland and gave the glen an almost dreamlike quality. I could hear the faint sound of the burn below, its gentle trickle weaving through the silence like a whispered conversation.
The colours were stunning. Autumn had painted the woods in deep rusts, burnt oranges and golden yellows. Fallen leaves carpeted the trail, soft underfoot, and every so often I paused to admire a particularly vivid tree or the way the mist curled around a mossy stone. There was no rush, no noise, just the quiet crackle of twigs, the distant call of a bird and my own steady breath.
It was one of those walks where the stillness seeps into you. The kind that clears your head without you even realising it. Lynn Glen always has a bit of magic about it. But on a morning like this, with the cold air and autumn all around, it felt like I had the whole glen to myself. A simple circular route, but one I’d happily walk again and again, especially in the heart of a misty golden autumn.
