Now the grass is gathered as we intend
The dormant meadow sleeps till winter’s end
Then a new crop of flowers will ascend
A host of colours in a wondrous blend
A nice array of cloud this morning, with patches of altocumulus and high cirrus interspersed with aircraft vapour trails. The birds started mouthing off (beaking off?) as soon as I stepped outside. A very noisy Carrion Crow led the proceedings, with the endless overhead stream of Swallows and House Martins chiming in for good measure. Blue Tits, Magpies and a Green Woodpecker also made themselves known.
Heading towards Skipworth Meadow, a passed a little scattering of Birds Foot Trefoil, still going strong. A few Dunnocks perched on the hedgerows and Honey Bees were buzzing in and out of their bollard based hive. As I walked a series of Red Admiral butterflies launched themselves skyward from the patches of Blackthorn they had been resting on. I’m amazed any are left alive considering the number of flying insectivores we’re hosting at the moment.
Ivy was blossoming in profusion all along my route, with the odd stray Small White butterfly fluttering about. Saxon Field hosted a pair of Robins singing a delightful duet, as well as a few Wild Carrot still in flower, and the dead husks of Wooley Thistle, standing brown and broken above the short grass of the meadow. Nestled beside one of the paths was a precious patch of Eyebright, almost missed on my journey.
Pottering along the drove I climbed a grassy mound beside the entrance to Ox Eye Daisy Field, hoping to catch a glimpse of some interesting bird life. Instead, I came across a Grassland Puffball, which appeared to have been partially eaten by some unknown creature.
Ox Eye field itself was rather sedate in appearance now, having been cut recently. A lush canvas of flowers in spring and summer reduced to three brown bales. So much beauty, just waiting for its chance to bloom again. The sea breeze was pleasantly cooling against my face as I walked to the gulley, but as usual I had little luck with my bird spotting endeavours, and no Hamish to bail me out today. A flock of Goldfinches wended their way past as I watched, their delicate bodies undulating through the air past the never ending procession of Swifts and House Martins. The skies are alive.