Water above and water around, water beneath my feet
Water’s not rare, we’ve water to spare, it’s smothering summer’s heat
Water in crops and water in drops, water in every which way
Water in blue and water in you, water in gathering grey
I set out this morning amid the aftermath of July’s first rain here at Durlston. I’d soon picked up a healthy coating on my boots and trousers, even though we only had about 2mm last night. Nevertheless the wildlife seemed most grateful, with Wild Parsnips standing tall and proud above Meadow Barley and Birds Foot Trefoil in South Field.
I hazarded a look for fungi beside the Beehive post and was instead greeted with a slender black and grey form. For a moment my instincts surged and I stopped dead, taken over by some kind of primal fear. I quickly made out that the Adder was in fact dead and covered in flies. It was a rather sad sight, I composed a small eulogy:
Who killed the killer?
Flies fest upon black diamonds
Fangs sheathed forever
As I walked to the Large Copse a mass of around two dozen Gatekeepers rose into the air from a patch of Wild Clematis. They fluttered about for a moment before landing again. Supping the morning dew perhaps?
I set a course for the Downlands next, past streams of Marbled Whites and Meadow Browns. Skylarks were singing, Stonechats were chatting and Goldfinches were tinkling in the skies above. Closer to earth Meadow Vetchling, Agrimony and Fleabane brought the yellow with Corky-Fruited-Water-Dropwort and small Ox Eye Daises whitening the place up.
Heading down Lighthouse Slope to the Gulley I followed the Butterfly Transect Route, spotting a few Common Blues and a Field Grasshopper, silent like the rest of its kin. Performance rained off. Two Roe Deer slipped behind a Sycamore as I struck the Coast Path, moving silently and only barely glimpsed out of the corner of my eye. The cliffs themselves were quiet, with a sullen looking Greater Black Backed Gull and a few Shags seemingly the only residents this morning. Then the air was rent by the cry of a Kestrel, calling from parts unseen.