Charming notes from Goldfinch resonates down the Sycamore, where you can see them flitting around the upper branches. The flash of yellow feathers reflects that of the golden Gorse blooms, and their little red faces, that of the remaining Rosehips which still cling to their leafless thorny stems.
A little Wren hops into the Bramble below. Old Man’s Beard, Wild Madder, and Honeysuckle intertwine, each with of them budding with leaves for Spring.
I hear song from Robins, and Blue Tits, as I head towards the downs. All the while, a Great Tit pipes continuously in sets of three, Chaffinch perch silently, and a Song Thrush bellows out its tunes from atop a tall Hawthorn. A couple of Blackbirds whip past in pursuit of one another.
Many more Goldfinch are to be enjoyed in the Lighthouse Field; they erupt from the quarry hollows and behind the ant hills, to float in small flocks between the scrub. Magpies clamber through soggy grasslands, hopping over the puddle-filled hoof-prints as they follow the Cows.
Water flows down the gully and through the old stone bridge. It’s a pleasant sight and sound that doesn’t occur too often; the winter borne only flowing over saturated ground following heavy rain. At the end of the bridge, the old Apple stands most decadent as it alights in the morning Sun. It’s short break in the cloud, but it warms the faded-green Lichens which line it’s branches as winter foliage.
The Cows have neglected to graze an area opened alongside Field 10, opting for the more sheltered slopes and proximity to the troughs – no surprises there! Undisturbed by their hooves, a good number of Meadow Waxcap mushrooms can be found spread across the green.
The ocean simmers with a messy layer of white froth, below the Lighthouse, it boils and thunders against the rocks. Overhead, a female Peregrine races past, with determined beats of the wings it surges towards the Castle.