The breeze scarce stirs, the clouds hang thick and all it seems is still
The land here has its troubles, but it feels no disparate ill
Touched by one ocean, graced by one sky, is all truly so fair?
No man’s an island so they say, and black storms blow elsewhere
Wrens and Wood Pigeons were calling sedately as I entered the Woodlands this morning. The air was still, the sky overcast and the entire landscape felt still, almost muted. A few Garlic Mustard stood tall in front of short Privet, with the thickening mat of Enchanters Nightshade beneath showing the first signs of flowers. Crunching over the dust dry paths I passed a Lacquered Bracket, its russet-red surface the only hint of fungal activity in the desiccated landscape.
The Car Parks were coping with conditions better, the grass showing signs of recovery from the limited rain it had managed to soak up. Pyramidal Orchids, Ribwort Plantain, Yarrow and Red Clover were all growing robustly, their various flowers tossing in the slight breeze. I even came across a tiny Forget-Me-Not plant bursting through a crack in the tarmac and spreading its petals to the dim light.
Passing the richly flowering Mock Orange and thick Horsetail clusters beside the Castle I made my way down to the cliffs. The pleasant stillness of the morning was broken by some exited squawking below. I leaned over to see a pair of Kestrels engaged in some kind of domestic dispute. The female turned and leapt from the ledge, taking flight and leaving the male behind. No comment.
Red Valerians fleshy leaves and clustered flower heads were flourishing alongside equally turgid Sea Beet. A closer look at our Tamarisk revealed a 7 Spot Ladybird nestled next to a spit shrouded Froghopper. Further along at the Tilly Whim Caves I became increasingly aware of the abundance of Rock Pipits along the coast, at least a half dozen were visible leaping and cheeping.
Skylarks could be heard in the distance as I crossed over the upper side of the gulley and ascended back towards the Learning Centre. Field Scabious and Meadow Bindweed lined my way, with a half dozen startled Linnets taking off before me. Just as I crested the apex, the distinct song of a Yellowhammer reached my ears, the singer in full view atop a patch of Hawthorn. All is as it should be here.