On the hill trails, the hawthorn has reached a peak of autumnal brightness. Red berries dot the hedgerows, in colourful contrast to the white spring blossom of these chalk hill shrubs, and are quite palatable to horses. Well, to some horses: Brena loves them and happily crunches on the hard-stoned berries. They are supposed to have digestive benefits.
I've read of a folkloric dread to harm hawthorns. So it's said, they grow where lightning has struck. Were that so, the Romanian mountains would be clothed with them, so frequently were the slopes and ridges struck. I remember shattered smouldering trees and blackened grass...and the occasional cross memorialising a shepherd fatally struck. In August I'd be keen to start day rides early so that we missed the typical late afternoon storms that grew and darkened, boiled and struck.