Elder leaves and Blackthorn blossom fill the hedgerow, beside the Warden’s cottage, between budding Bramble and plum Dogwood stems. A Robin sings from it’s podium in the tall Sycamore tree, backed by a medley of other birds; warbling Chiffchaff, tinkling Goldfinch, and beating Wren.
Heading out into the Meadows, the gateways are filled with sloppy mud. It’s churned up by walkers funnelling through these pinch-points through the wettest winter on record at Durlston since 1988. Boot-prints diverge across the fields as they opt for the driest turf, leaving only the marks of dog paws and deer tracks imprinted into the soft clay.
In Saxon, there’s a onion-scent that fills the air where the subtle green stems of Crow Garlic amass throughout the grass. Between the anthills fresh sprigs of Ox-Eye Daisy, Ribwort Plantain, and Burnet-Saxifrage. Tufted Vetch and Herb Robert seen atop some of the mounds.
Basal leaves of some Early Spider Orchids are beginning to ‘spike’ towards the old abandoned farm machinery. Here, between yet more sodden clay, a handful of purple Dog-Violets and discarded snail shells; larger Garden and tiny Yellow-lipped.
Skylark song gains momentum towards the East-West drove. Impressively loud but tuneful vocals resonating from each bird as they ascend into the sky, versing through the song. It was around this point the dew-covered grass began to soak through to my socks.
Ox-eye Meadow is scattered with a mosaic of white Daisies. Small in number now, but the yellow tiles grow in number as more Cowslips emerge, and will take over towards April.
I check out a couple dry stone walls being repaired, and discover yet another collapsed section ‘as one goes up, another comes down’ as they say…