Little old Doug was wrapped up most snug, writing the morning diary
When along came a spider, a silky thread rider arriving on tendril most wiry
Intrigued by the bod of this strange arthropod Doug set out on a little enquiry
But a bevy of snaps of these eight-legged chaps left him needing a little psychiatry.
An odd quiet permeated the park as I stepped in via the woodlands, ascending footpaths new and old past pools of golden light filtering in through the broken canopy. Jelly Ear and Golden Ear Fungus were on display, each inhabiting a different fallen limb. Scarlet Elf Cup was also still on show.
My eyes darted up and down the hedgerow separating Long Meadow from the entrance road, zeroing in on any traces of movement. Without calls, I had to rely on sight alone. Dunnocks, Robins and Chaffinches were making themselves conspicuous, but my attention was captured by one small, slight form in particular. I followed its short hops between patches of undergrowth with a low, creeping stride. Was it a Wren? No, the tail was wrong, as were the wing markings. I continued, eager to confirm my suspicions. Finally, it turned towards me and I got a clear view of its head. A Goldcrest.
Green Woodpeckers and actual Wrens broke the silence as I crossed the Car Park, passing a pair of Great Tits alighting on the rich carmine stalks of Dogwood. Mallow leaves adorned the exterior bed of the Castle, while blooming Daffodils spread their fresh yellow petals above.
I changed course and headed down to the Great Globe, surveying the ocean of Common Groundsel, Primrose, Bristly Ox Tongue and some sort of Thistle. I want to say Spear Thistle, but I’m not 100%, it might be Wooley. Anyway, there were oceans of it.
Moving along the Coast Path up to Caravan Terrace I passed Tamarisk and Tamarisk Moss, the latter part of a mini ecosystem within the dry stone walls alongside Ivy, Heartstonge Ferns and Herb Robert. As I crossed the bridge an unexpected visitor slid in to view, abseiling down from my head in front of my eyes and on to my clipboard. I suspect it was a either a Common Garden Spider, or possibly an Orb Weaver. I’ve just spent 15 minutes looking at pictures of spiders and quite frankly I’m a little disturbed. (Note: Artistic licence was used in the writing of today’s poem, I am not currently seeking therapy as a result of seeing a spider).