I took Rex my beloved cheap and cheerful cruiser out for a Sunday ride in Essex. Since moving here I have fallen deeply in love with the scenery. There were rolling hills filled with bright yellow rapeseed and fresh green spring grass dotted with buttercups swaying in the wind like an ocean. At the side of the road a hovering kestrel swoops down towards a freshly exposed ditch to catch her lunch, over the hill Thaxted rises into view with its lofty church spire, as I get closer I can see the historical streets lined with cottages and Tudor buildings.
After I pass a building with over hanging wattle and dorb I turn onto a winding single track road with farm cottages, barns and open banks, the road is level with the fields around and I can see for miles. There are a few tulips left in the gardens closer to town and further out on the hedgrows are wild dog roses and late blue bells, as well as flowering weeds on the banks. With an un-obstructed view of the landscape you can watch the clouds shadows move over the fields smoothly and the golden sunshine lights up everything.
A fork in the road with wonky-whitewashed sign leads onto a mottled lane through wooded curves, with a parish church tucked away, hidden from the outside world amongst the pale green leafy trees. At the t-junction we turn onto the road that leads towards the chocolate box inspired Finchingfield; the quaint cottages painted in pastels, the ornamental duck pond with humpback bridge where the road leads up the hill and guides your eye to the Norman church proudly overlooking the postcard scene, the village I have grown to love and call my home.