What better introduction to Spring than this quotation from the writings of Richard Jefferies.
"The bird upon the tree utters the meaning of the wind—a voice of the grass and wild-flower, words of the green leaf; they speak through that slender tone. Sweetness of dew and rifts of sunshine, the dark hawthorn touched with breadths of open bud, the odour of the air, the colour of the daffodil—all that is delicious and beloved of springtime are expressed in his song. Genius is nature and his lay, like the sap in the bough from which he sings, rises without thought". —’ Field and Hedgerow’: Hours of Spring. Richard Jefferies
Our Northern (Winter) Thrushes - Redwing and Fieldfare
It’s Autumn: the time of year when the ‘chakking’ calls of Fieldfare in the hedgerows in the frosty early morning, preceded by the ‘seep seep’ night-time calls of migrating Redwing announce the arrival of our Winter Thrushes. They arrive anytime from late September but it’s not until the frosts of October and November that we begin to see them en-mass in the fields and hedgerows.
(Composed during the snow-thaw of last month…) As I sit here, goldfinches glance across the skies outside the window, their ‘charms’ like the bounce of iambic pentameter written with wings. They turn towards our garden, and immediately, their syntax becomes jumbled by a shift and gather of chaffinches – with an adjunct of sparrows tumbling in like a hurried conclusion. […] See Also: Our Northen (Winter) Thrushes
The thing I notice most at the beginning of Autumn is that it is still dark when I get up in the mornings to let the dogs out. With mist over the meadows and dewy morns. Rowan berries aplenty; Blackberry too. Red hips and haws colour the hedges a rusty red. And Rosebay Willowherb their tall spikes lit by the evening sunshine, followed soon by clouds of gossamer-soft seeds, floating like fairies on the balmy wind: The end of summer.
Wandering alongside an autumn hedge all yellows, browns, reds, pinks and purples my eye was caught by a bright flash of orange-red ahead of me; a Redstart - its wings flapping in a blur; its tail fanning out - orange-red as it hovers and snatches at a fly. It lands on a fence post, standing upright, its tail shivering. An adult male. Then up it jumps again snatching at another passing insect and lands on a dead branch further along - it’s fiery tail and ‘tweet-tut’ fretting call teasing me on ...
2020 / 14 14:00 – 16:30 (with Bertie) Bright and sunny, but with scattered cloud and hazy light. Increasingly chilly NE wind F3 in exposed areas Out on the bridleway towards the Roughs and the wind is surprisingly cold, though not as intense as it was forecast. The song of a Skylark is carrying from […]
The Moon and the Goshawk. These are strange and unsettling times for us all. I head for the high tops, to clear my head with a clearing storm. I can see it coming; great grey brush strokes drawn down with a broad sweep over the wet page of a lemon-yellow sky. I decide to cross […]
Simon Coleman Singing Nightingale At Fingringhoe, Essex, 2015, Richard Hull During this time of great uncertainty and anxiety in the world, I feel the value of beautiful and insightful writing even more than usual. There is the palpable sense of crisis pressing in on our minds, with no obvious end in sight. With every official […]
Work and see the weather come. See the cloudscum run above the far hills, then trace it down to fall in the turns and the darkness of a long-bent river, deathly deep. Look up, look down, look back and everything has gone in less time than it takes to think it. Creamy plains of moorland […]
Through the woods the Gruffalo stumbled“I’m not going in no Gruffalo crumble!” Exhausted he crashed through a field of sheepWhere with her long crook stood Little Bo Peep. She looked up into his bright orange eyes,And said “You gave that wolf quite a surprise”. The sheep gathered round and started bleating“Thank you we didn’t want […]