Blackcaps and briony

Through bluebelled Gillfield with my old friend and fellow landscape obsessive, Judith. At the edge of the wood we catch the fruity song of the blackcap and spot him in a tree. The ashes are still almost bare in comparison with the oaks - in for a splash?

On Fanshawe Gate Lane the hedgerow is twined with tall twists of briony:



On the way back, we talk about the peasant poet John Clare and his deep emotional connection with the landscape in which he lived - to the extent that he became ill when moving only 3 miles from it. Judith went on to talk about what the government call "placemaking" and how they have sort of co-opted this idea of emotional connection with place as a way in to "consultation" with local people. Although this can be good in many ways, she feels that it is often shallow and a distraction from the more deep rooted issues. A bit like Tesco stocking organic veg I suppose.

Welcome in the May - o!

May Day photos: blackthorn over but the hawthorn - or may- about to burst.



Stitchwort or Poor Man's Buttonhole around Gillfield...



.....and the blue smoke of bluebells in the Wood.

Chiffchaffs and warblers singing, swallows swerving in the fields, blackbirds on every tree and satellite dish. Barbara says there is one near her (or maybe it's a thrush?) on Greenoak Road that she is sure keeps singing "Mary Joby, Mary Joby" - the name of an old lady who used to live there.