A wet morning on the park, but quite mild once again! Madness to think it was sub-zero temperatures this time last week.
A Blackbird dives across the path in front of me as I make a bee-line for the shelter of the woodland. A gentle south-westerly breeze rattles through the canopy of evergreen Holm Oaks, shaking their leaves and dropping even larger raindrops onto me than if I were out in the open!
I wander along the coastpath, listening to the continuous chatter of Robins and Wrens hidden somewhere out of sight. A few Long-tailed Tits make their way through a Willow tree, like little feathery puffballs hopping from branch to branch.
At Sunnydale, the stream is flowing with murky brown water, runoff from the muddy fields up the valley. From it’s banks, an impressive Cherry Laurel reaches across to the other side, garnished with bright red fruit.
Hints of the Spring are beginning to emerge all around the woodland - emerging Snowdrops, budding Elder, and increasingly prevalent bird song.
I walk into the open glade of the Aviaries and listen to a chorus of Robin and Blue Tit melodies. A Chaffinch occasionally chimes in with it’s ‘ching-ching’ call, and I even hear the yaffle of a Green Woodpecker from somewhere near the Shed.
On my return back up through the woods, I admire the gigantic Black Pines that tower high above the coastpath, their branches tipped with little pom-poms of pine needles.
Near the ‘Turret View’ seat, I carefully step towards the edge of the cliff to sneak a peak at the mudslide. I realise the ground beneath my feet is probably quite precariously held together by a ground-cover of Ivy roots. Below me, a 100ft slump of pure clay, now saturated in the rain into a sloppy mudslide. Waves howl as they crash upon the beach, poised to reclaim the trunks of uprooted trees that have tumbled towards the beach.