The Stepping Stones on Cannock Chase are a magical place when the mist sets in. We splashed through the brook the other February afternoon. From time to time a mountain biker or a child in wellies or a rider on horseback would ripple the shallow waters, and then all would return to silence.
We’d cast stones and skim them and paddle in the soft sand. Slick, gentle rain came coating our jumpers and coats in millions of tiny bubbles. The trees began to blur in the mist.