As I set off on my walk today the sun shone, though there was a cool breeze coming from the East. A ring dove watched me from the boughs of a tree.
The flowers in the garden shrieked Spring!!
I walked through the village and out into the countryside.
There were lamas in the field. One seemed pleased to see me and expressed her joy in a strange manner.
I headed off down the lane.
This is the point where I took off down the other lane on the last walk. This time I went straight on.
The hedges were full of all manner of little birds though the little buggers would neither sit still nor come out where I could take a photo.
There were strange growths in the silver birch trees.
Looking out over the fields.
Like a bird on a wire. Like a drunk in a midnight choir.
I have tried.
I thought this was a pretty horse.
Past the farmhouse with cherry blossom and off along a track.
There was something about this dead trunk that I loved – the texture and pattern of the grain.
I loved this skeletal tree – still not coming to life, intricate filigree against the sky. I wrote my poem about this tree.
Past the hedge with trees and ivy, alive with small birds.
The track took me across the fields with the yellow rape in the distance. I always find that alluring.
The trees and the dung heap!
Approaching Lowthorpe now.
Past the farmhouse and on to the lane.
I thought I would check out St Martin’s church. It dates back to Saxon times but is mainly 14th Century. The ruined chancel at the side is a result of the dissolution of the monasteries.
There is a fabulous tomb and Saxon cross in here but, due to the Corona virus, it is shut. Another time.
Another nice tree – and forget-me-nots on the graves.
A beautiful gnarly tree. That went into my poem too.
I set off back. A walk is always different on the return journey. By now the wind had got up a bit, the sun was disappearing in hazy cloud and it was much colder. Fortunately the breeze was behind me.
Back down the track. The dandelions shone to me.
There’s my tree again and a wind turbine – clean energy!
My tree trunk.
My horse, still grazing – he refused to look up.
I could see a glimpse of the church down the lane.
Past the drifts of May blossom.
A great tit was feeding in the birch trees.
I liked this brown sheep.
And I’m nearly home again.