A westerly wind whistles through the woods; the leaf fall having left a canopy of barren branches upon the Ash and Sycamore. Autumnal colours stand out where Elm leaves have yellowed, Rosehips remain, and Dogwood dulled in contrast to its bright red stems.
The sunrise moves ever further past the Isle of Wight. It’s glow warms the dew-covered stone benches and grassland around the Globe. Here, brush-cutters have left a scattering of cuttings, ready to be raked and collected by volunteers later today. The removal of these nutrients will help encourage a rich diversity of wildflowers, at a time when the natural maintenance by rabbits appears to be at all time low.
My walk takes me down onto the coastal path and up the slope, where I find a small Cuttlefish bone, curiously 100ft above the sea. I round the head to find many Jackdaw clattering along the clifftop. They flock between the Tamarisk fronds and rocky ledges below.
In the distance, Woodpigeons gather in flight towards the Lighthouse, probably 500 in number. You can just hear the very soft movement of air rushing over their wings as they soar high in the sky, a very pleasing sound.
Sunny yellow Gorse blooms border the footpath, and I can hear Robin and Chiffchaff tweeting from within. Also, the rapid-fire calls from a Wren, relentlessly sounding from under the cover of scrub.
Waves roll around the rocks at the base of Tilly Whim. Not a big swell, but messy. The water, a blue-ish-grey, broken by the layers of whitewater that rebound from the cliffs. I catch a quick glimpse of couple Oystercatcher in flight, piping as they pass.
No sign of the Peregrine upon her usual perch, and just a single Guillemot rafting upon the water.
On my return to the office, a lovely glimpse of blue feathers, where a Jay collects the fallen fruits below the Hawthorn.