Little walks

Sadly my last blog post was also the last time we managed to get out for a good long ramble. Since then, work has taken over again and I've been back in my studio. One thing I do try to do every day though - if only to stop myself going completely potty - is to get out for an hour or so every day. I need to feel space around me, to escape everything and everyone.

There are several footpaths round our village and although some might find doing the same walk day in day out rather repetitive, there are always new things to see, if you keep your eyes open. At one corner of a field there are usually hares to be spotted - if one is stealthy.

Or a birds nest tumbled from a tree, to be examined. Moss, pheasant feathers, horse hairs and grass...the softest, warmest bed for vulnerable little chicks.

Look, a tiny blue feather -

Fancy suggests that it may be a peacock feather, as there is a peacock in a village across the way - though I did wonder if it was a swallow breast feather.

I usually to do my walk in the morning, but sometimes I prefer to spend the day working and treat myself to an evening stroll. The light is different and if the weather is fine, a warm, golden balm coats the countryside...

...and the Moon rises to say a quick hello to the Sun before he sinks below the horizon. There she is, just above the trees, almost hidden in all that blue sky.

The horse chestnut avenue is looking spectacularly pretty, but already the 'candles' are dying back, revealing embryonic conkers - a reminder that this exquisite spring, my favourite season, is all too fleeting.

There are many small miracles to stop this daily walk becoming dull - but mostly it is enough to be out in the fresh air with the open sky above me.

Treasures

With the worst of my deadlines over, we celebrated with a good, long ramble around one of our favourite valleys. This walk takes longer than most as there are always so many things to look at and wonder over. It begins with an unspoilt meadow full of unusual grasses and at this time of the year, cowslips. Cowslips used to be a common spring flower, but, like most of our native wild flowers, suffered a massive decline in the 20th century. due to 'agricultural improvements'. They seem to be recovering a little, and this field was happily covered in them.

Our start point looks down into the valley bottom which we will end up in; remember that large copse to the left and the yellow rapeseed field; they reappear towards the end.

It was to be a proper treasure hunt.

Early orchids. Not particularly rare, but uncommon enough to be wondered at.

The weather was overcast and a cool wind blow through the apple blossom as I looked backwards down the path - what happiness, to be out in the open after weeks of being cooped up.

Lambs are still being born - there were some very tiny ones scampering about and we watched in amazement as 15 or so buzzards circled overhead. I had always thought the stories of buzzards taking new lambs was an old farmer's tale, but with so many obviously watching the flock, we did wonder.

A Cotswold drystone wall carefully repaired -

- beautifully integrated with the older stones. Waste not, want not. No cement or mortar used here.

And another mend, further on, the wall dipping delicously with the contour of the land.

We stopped for a little picnic - hand made pork pies from our local Wychwood Deli, handmade here in Gloucestershire by the Cotswold Pudding Company. They were just the right size and unlike any mass produced pie I've ever had.

Full of pie we strolled on, but stopped in our tracks when we saw, some way away, a ewe who had apparently just lambed. My zoom lens picked up the afterbirth still dangling from the birth canal and the lambs themselves were wobbling about, with no farmer's mark on them.

We realised that many other ewes were lambless (but large) and the lambs tottering about were, like the earlier ones, very small and new. So (ignorant as we largely are over these matters) we had to assume that they were quite capable of sorting themselves out, as indeed, this mother was. It also cleared up the 'mystery' of the massed buzzards. Probably on the lookout for afterbirth and any sickly or dead lambs - I still don't believe they would go for healthy ones.

We stood quietly watching, some distance away and I took this little film of what must have been the first hour or so of their lives. In the background, apart from the wind, you can hear a skylark and a bumble buzzing past.

Further on, in an opposite meadow, the fathers taking a well earned rest after all that reproduction.

Now we began to descend to the valley bottom.

Where, in the scrubby woodlands, we found our first badger skull and a few other boney delights which went into my bag.

I'm not overkeen on this part of the walk; despite the bluebells and the cowslips, it has a slightly murky, unwholesome atmosphere as if something bad happened here a long time ago.

But at last we emerged on the wide track of the valley bottom - last seen in my earlier photos and the copse of trees which looked so bunchy and comfortable from our viewpoint.

And the once-distant-now-near rapeseed field.

Time to head home and a scramble up the slope to the left.

Finding on our way some small flowers which I've never seen before - another indication of how rich this patch is in variety and how generally sparse our flora has become. This tiny blue chap is Chalk Milkwort -

- and this funny, scruffy thing is Glaucous Sedge - not really a flower, botanically speaking, but a grass.

Best of all and in sad, solitary splendour - two wild Pasque Flowers, incredibly pretty, rather rare and growing only on a few selected chalklands in Britain.

A day of treasures - some to store in the memory chest and others...

Cotswold Lambs

Last week we went up to the Cotswold Hills on a chilly spring day. As we parked the bike, a farmer drove into a field on a quad bike, towing a high sided trailer. Four lambs and two ewes tumbled out. We got chatting to the farmer, who was very proud of this year's results; it's been an excellent year for sheep and we were pleased to hear it. These little ones were only two days old, but after just a few minutes in the brisk Easterly wind, (which you can hear whipping round us) they were exploring their new world with a joyful curiosity. Down in the valley, gangs of lambs charged about and bounced around.

Thinking of Spring 14th Feb

At present life consists of two things for me - working and walking, in that order. At the moment, working is full time, with little space for anything more than an 'if-I-don't-get-out-I-will-explode' march round the village fields. Last Sunday though, we woke to the first blue skies and sun we'd seen for days, so without stopping for breakfast, we hastened over to one of our favourite walks, to look for signs of Spring.

There are new shoots appearing - not yet on the trees, but certainly in crop fields. We walked across to a lovely farm, the footpath following along the almost purple hogged hedgerow.

First it basked in almost warm sunshine, then dark clouds rolled over and it merged into the landscape like a camouflaged animal.

So I stalked it, getting closer...

...and closer...

Walking round the estate we could sense a stirring - birds jousting with songs, sticky horse chestnut buds swelling, catkins and snowdrops trembling in the chilly breeze. And two large, bronzed hares galloping across a field towards cover.

While the sun was out, it made one hope that maybe the year is on the turn at last.

In a few weeks time, these rich winter neutrals will have transformed to gauzy greens and saffrons.

I am sure of it.

Further reading on this estate

British History online fascinating in-depth reading on the estate, it's long history and the surrounding villages which belong to it, including the farm I have shown here.

A discussion on development and repair of the grade one listed estate house - (not shown here)

English Heritage report on the estate house (with picture)

Weather - changeable

Too bitterly cold to take the motorbike out, so today we confined ourselves to a brisk, bracing walk outside of the village. The bright sun did nothing to warm us.

Especially as there were ominous clouds moving in from the East, blown along on a thin, cutting wind.

In the distance we could see something - sleet, rain or snow - being dumped from these gloomy giants.

Soon they were swallowing the blue sky and we hurried back as fast as we could across claggy fields. Then it arrived.

More snow. Tiny powdery dots hurtling towards us in a frenzy. Dramatic, but nothing to worry about.

Just a little reminder that winter is not quite done with us yet.