A narrow road leads from the stately home, uphill to the five barred gate and cattle gridded entrance. The fields alongside are sown with oil-seed rape. The flowers are beginning to show. In a couple of weeks the plants will be chest high, brash and boastful and highly scented, the scourge of hay-fever sufferers.
At the base of a telegraph pole, I spot a different yellow – three tulips.
margarine yellow flowers
and butter tulips