Dan and I embarked on a twilight drive, tracing the sinuous curves of Burton Road, winding my way from Abbotsbury to West Bexington. The timing was deliberate; a calculated decision predicated on the serendipitous span of dry weather, a respite that had endured for the better part of a week. A diligent perusal of TrailWise had forewarned me: in inclement conditions, this thoroughfare becomes a quagmire, an impassable terrain unforgiving to the unprepared traveler. As I navigated the road, a medley of earthy scents intermingled with the gentle hum of the engine, punctuated only by the occasional splash of water beneath the wheels. Puddles, like scattered jewels, dotted the path sporadically, yet the road remained mercifully unmarred, its integrity preserved by the benign weather. Above, the sky unfurled in a grandiose display of evening hues, casting an ethereal glow upon Dorset’s revered Jurassic coast, a panorama of unparalleled beauty stretching […]
I made three more swift boxes from my remaining decent pallet wood I had reclaimed. These are for the village and have been given to the Swift Action group for distribution to those that would like them.
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