Not every shoe gets sat with. Left boot, black, badly weathered, no laces, tongue gone stiff, on the valley path above Marsden just past the second reservoir gate. Snow still lying in the gullies and the wind coming straight down the valley, so I did the notes standing and kept it brief. The valley path has given the register a few over the years and it earns every one of them the hard way.
Flask conditions poor on account of the wind — the notebook says the tea were lukewarm by the boot, which tells you I tried a cup regardless. The photograph didn't come out. I wrote that the boot had happen been there since autumn, going by the state of the tongue, and I'll let that stand. That's an observation about weathering, not a speculation, and there's a difference.
Wessenden in February wants respect. I were back at the car by dinnertime and glad of it. I remember the wind more than I remember the boot, if I'm honest, but the boot is the one in the book. The photograph not coming out means the boot exists nowhere now but in words, and the words are decent, so I'm satisfied.
Written up August 2026, from the notebook.