The trees are frantic with movement where the north-easterly storm winds rock chaos through the woodland. The evergreen Holm Oaks are particularly frenzied as their leaves act as a sail, catching each gust, and rocking each tree to its core. Even the barren Ash and Willows sway to-and-fro with might; the latter demonstrating its flexibility as it creaks back and forth.
I think the first few Blackthorn blossom will regret blooming so early – petals already scattered by the wind. Fresh leaves have emerged upon the Elder – one of the first trees to leaf in the season: its little pinnate leaves unfurling themselves along each branch.
The Dell usually calm and quiet, roars with the sound of whistling winds and rustling leaves. No bird song to stop and listen to, instead I find myself chasing my hat back along the bridge as it runs away from me with the leaves. On Caravan Terrace the lone Bay tree dances in a pleasing oscillating motion, before a blue sky full of broken cloud; altostratus I think.
The wind pretty much pushes me around Durlston Head and you can see the same force applies to the passing Herring Gulls, Greater Black-backed Gulls, and a Raven. I see many birds arch their wings back to steady themselves in flight. Woodpigeons whip around with gusto above the messy grey sea. Large bubbles of sea foam float past above me and clouds of sea mist are fired past the head.
It’s calmer past the Observation and it’s pleasing to a Robin perched atop a dry stone wall instead of being hunkered down amongst the scrub. Along here I find myself missing the exhilarating windsm, so head back up to woodland to check for storm damage.
The coast walk is indeed an invigorating one with many leaves and twigs scattering the ground between the emergent Wood Dock and Wild Arum. The paths are covered too, including some sizeable branches you would not want to land on your head. Fortunately all of the trees are still standing, so I head back to the office to warm back up.