3 weeks

Three weeks of what, wandering round the country - Southampton and Bristol in particular. Taking advantage of whatever summer we have, lots more short walks - Blaise Castle, Snuff Mills in Bristol, and some heath and woodland walks in the New Forest.
Swimming a little once I'd got rid of a 'summer cold'. Trying to improve my crawl style with tips from the Esther expert.
Walking with a group from the village and around. Visiting the bird-hide at Fineshade

We walked
and practised mud skating
on paths where sun sliced through trees,
arrived
at the hide
for a grandstand view
of clouds,
trees,
grass,
water,
reeds,
platforms
and birch trunks
hung with bird feeders.

At first, the movement of butterflies.
Dragonflies, big as birds,
skim over the pond,
with sun-glimmered wings.

Skittish coal tits flitter
from tree to feeder.
A bolder great tit
lingers,
turning its head
with a weather eye on the world.

We think that’s all,
when a white-face clown
bounces in with red cap and cummerbund,
cream shirt and pied tail-coat.
He alights and perches upright,
balanced,
tail against the trunk,
beak probing.

Now and then
he hops
to easier pickings
at the food cage.
A moment,
then the purposeful pierrot
returns
to dig deeper

until two lithe and speedy squirrels
chase each other
up the pole
and he’s off!

And so are we.

A walk in the wind

We went outside in the sunshine and walked for a couple of hours.
The massed snowdrops were the best I've seen so far this year. The ones in my garden have vanished.



This fine figure of a youth stands on a hill in front of a copse. We saw him from the path, and had to investigate in spite of the Private, No Public Right of Way sign . I wonder who he is, with his cloak, his fig-leaf and his right arm leaning on a treetrunk with a snake coiled round it. He stands on a hefty plinth with carvings on.

He probably belonged to Blatherwycke Hall, which was demolished in 1948. The Hall was used by troops in World War 2, and was in a poor state.


We were making our way back down the hill, when the landowner arrived in an impressive vehicle, pulling over directly into our path. 'I hope you're not causing damage, ladies. Now, I think you'd better stick to the path today. The lake's private, you know, and there's a shoot on. ' So, we were warned. I don't think we looked like vandals, but you never can tell. I suppose we might have been shoot saboteurs.

These plants, in a narrow strip along the field edge, look a bit like maize. I hoped the photo would capture the movement of the dry leaves in the wind.




We followed the path across a footbridge, over the road, and through the woods, along a disused railway line and past a bridge that looked ready to collapse.



We walked past Fineshade Abbey - an eighteenth century building on the site of a previous Priory. Only the stables remain now, and someone lives there. In front of the buildings a flock of friendly horned sheep, with brown and white coats, stopped their grazing and came over to see what we had to offer. This one was happy when I stroked it. Are they Jacob's sheep?




After all this we had lunch in the cafe, walked back to the car, and drove home before the sleet arrived.


Oh yes, we found plenty of mud, and I was glad of the plastic bags.