The sun rises above a clean horizon, it’s light reaches out towards me, across the calm blue sea, to warm the crumbly cliffs of Durlston Bay. At my favourite viewpoint, Pine needles and Holm Oak leaves are silhouetted against the bright sky.
A Shag can be seen flying close to the shore; steadily beating its lofty wings to maintain a flight just metres above the waters surface.
In the nearby glade, leaves crunch beneath my boots which are already sullied with mud. Some of the leaves glisten a frosty white, pinnated Sycamores and rounded Hazel. Fresh green leaves of Three-cornered Leek poke through them, ready to bask in the Winter Sun. Catkins hang from the surrounding Hazel, but alas no flowers yet it sight.
A Robin sings from above, amongst the towering trees. It’s tunes are followed by a Magpie’s churr, Woodpigeon’s coos, and a Wren’s call. Further afield, a group of Gulls caw out from towards Hillcrest.
A Treecreeper swoops across the steep banks of Harts Tongue Fern and settled at the base of an Ash Tree. Close enough to see it’s mottled feathers and pointed beak, it slowly jitters its way up the trunk.
As I sit in the office writing this diary, a group of eight Long-tailed Tits adorn the bare Willow trees in the view from my window. Their little plump rounded bodies following one another as they flit from branch to branch.