Approaching the park this morning, I found myself driving over flattened pine cones and cow pats following the great escape of the Hereford Cows at the weekend.
I began my patrol heading west towards the downs. Here, a chillsome wind blows in from across the Atlantic, it picks up white-horses on the sea and rattles through the Holm Oaks at the Small Copse. Waves roll through the dry Meadow Grasses which appear in tufts across the field. Every now and then I stumble upon a little fragment of colour amongst the greens and yellows; a late sunny Dandelion, a closed-up purple Knapweed, and dispirited Agrimony.
As I’m walking through the meadows, every so often I come across a startled Meadow Pipit. The birds shoot upwards, giving a quick flash of it’s white outer tail feathers and squeaks as it disappears into the distance. Overhead, a charm of six Goldfinch flock southwards in a determined flight.
A Stonechat calls from somewhere amongst the scrub. Intertwined with Bramble, this thicket is flecked red by the fading autumnal leaves and underripe blackberries. Clumps of Stinking Iris stand below, it’s dry pods have retracted to reveal the bright orange berries within.
Dogwood also stands out with its dark-red, almost purple leaves, however the best display of red leaves are found on a lone Hawthorn tree: The leaves as deep in colour as the crimson haws, many of them scattered on the ground below.
More autumnal delights can be found amongst the foliage: In places, the Blackthorn’s leaves have turned a peachy-orange in contrast to the blue Sloes, and bright-pink berries have appeared on the Spindle, but not yet revealing the orange seeds inside.