Flowers bloom with mounting strength in summer countryside
Growing ever thicker, rising like a tide
Then like the tide the flowers peak and slowly ebb away
Nothing to do but raise a hand and wish them on their way
For the first time since the arrival of summer I reached for a coat as I left on my patrol this morning. Whilst welcome protection from the rain the ambient humidity and temperature were so high I certainly didn’t need warming up.
Great Tits perched out of the rain on Hawthorn boughs and a Green Woodpecker made a short undulating flight between two patches of scrub in the Car Park. I set out for Large Copse on the hunt for fungi, having recently tracked down a magnificent Ganoderma resinacea first spotted by Kevin Bewley in the woodlands. I passed by neat rows of Purbeck Limestone lined up under an Ash tree, with a few noisy Wrens calling from the hedgerows.
Large Copse has yet to sprout any specimens of note, though the near ubiquitous Hairy Stearum and Rosy Crust were looking healthy. Beyond on the Meadows and Downlands some of the wildflowers were experiencing something of a second wind, with Red Bartsia, Fleabane, Squinancywort, Self-Heal and even a few stray Ox Eye Dasies that were still in bloom. I also caught a flash of what could have been a Greenfinch, but it was only a fleeting glimpse, so treat it as unconfirmed.
Next I called at the Small Copse, hoping for better fortune with fungi but alas, it was not to be. My most interesting finds were some King Alfred’s Cakes, a very nicely made den and an odd sock. The sock may have conceivably had some fungus growing on it but I didn’t care to inspect it closely.
Down the Lighthouse slope I followed the movements of a few Carrion Crows, the only bird I know that ever really looks at home in the rain. Herring Gulls soared overhead, also accustomed to the wet but they don’t carry quite the same air of grim resignation that the corvids do. Sea Aster and Woody Nightshade were flowering along the Coast Path adding a pleasant peppering of purple to the colour palate of the cliffs. For the first time in quite a while, I noted the absence of the sound of Kestrels, their calls recently an almost daily occurrence. Clearly this is not the kind of weather they like to hang around in.