By searing solar engine we were set a world apart
Drawn skyward from the briny deep our parting then did start
I soared aloft in wispy banks beneath the Tropopause
Until my home turned grey, then black and opened up its doors
With gravity I was earthbound, and then a flowing snake
So close, so close to you again I hear waves as they break
Surging, crawling, carving, falling, we touch, and I’m delighted
We’re whole again, the circle closed, at last, we’re reunited
After armouring up with waterproofs I braved the elements beyond the shelter of the Learning Centre. Whilst still a little tempestuous, storm Dennis has calmed considerably since yesterday. I began my journey past the Wildlife Area, buckled and twisted fences evidence of the maelstrom of entropy that passed through in the night. A few Dunnocks could be heard singing alongside Great Tits and Robins, the odd individual making brief flights between the shelter of various areas of foliage.
In the Saxon Field I was again greeted by the music of several Song Thrushes, the hidden birds performing persistently against the low whistle of the wind. A few basal rosettes of Early Spider Orchids were on display, as well as the odd Brown Mottlegill. Tamarisk Moss and Oakmoss were both visibly flourishing in the wet conditions, give them some air and water and they’re happy.
A tramp around a few more Meadows uncovered a small patch of Cowslips, perhaps regretting their early bird tendencies given the weather conditions. Crow and Magpie could both be seen skulking about the short grass. As ever the corvids are imperturbable.
Heading down to the Bridge over the Gulley the sounds of Chiffchaffs wafted up to me, with the abrasive cackling call of a Jay further downhill. I followed it onto the Butterfly Transect route, carefully navigating the saturated hillside.
Torrents of water were gushing into the sea down by the Tilly Whim Caves. Herring Gulls, Great Black Backed Gulls and a Fulmar were all riding the storm on rain slick wings. Notably absent were the Guillemots and Razorbills, their ledge standing empty above the pounding waves. No doubt they have sought the safety of the open ocean. Waves do not rise where water lies deep.