I enter the Reservoir Copse under the noise of sounding Squirrels and the yellowing leaves of Poplar. It feels wild and forgotten in here; old glass milk bottles lie amongst the Ivy-covered ground. It grows upward at the base of the trees, entangling itself around each trunk. Where an old trees has died and collapsed under the weight of it, the Ivy lives on; flexing at the break, and now billowing outwards from the rotting log. At the tips, it’s flowers have began to form. This will provide a brilliant source of nectar for the Speckled Wood butterfly which dances around the now sunlit glade.
Following a fresh clean, the Great Globe stands proud upon its pedestal at Durlston Head. The lettering carved into the Portland limestone now legible and capturing a moment in time: 1887 to be exact, with the names of countries such as Burmah and Siam now a thing of the past. Also the size of the British Isles akin to that of France, perhaps showing a somewhat inflated view of ourselves at that time.
At the coast path I turn westwards towards the Observation Point. Here, the Holm Oaks suffer from the salty prevailing winds; their branches leafless at the tips, but undeterred and sprouting fresh leaves from below. Tucked in lee of the dry stone wall, Sea Aster, Ragwort, Creeping Thistle, Bristly Ox-tongue, and Rock Samphire, all in flower and proving a splash of colour along the path edge.
Jackdaws scamper along the rocky ledges upon the clifftop and amongst the dead Sea Thrift. Their beady silver eyes watching me as I walk past. A single Shag beats its lofty wings closer to the water, and a couple Herring Gulls float eastward, just like the sailing yachts being carried by the Southerly breeze.
A few more floral delights can be found in Lighthouse Field: Common Centaury, Spearwort, and the magnificent Woolly Thistle. A charm of Goldfinch pass overhead as I ascend past the Mile Markers, I can hear them ‘tinkling’ as they flit past. Also in the sky I spot a couple Swifts whizzing past in a much more determined flight; gathering courage to cross the channel on their Autumn migration.