It might feel chilly and grey, but signs of Spring keep pricking at my eyes.
Raindrops patter on grass. Gulls caw and circle. Skylarks quibble, high over the River Brit. Wind waves through the reeds.
Bindy‘s rustling close to my heels on this morning walk through the fields of West Bay.
Cow parsley scents the lanes with its sharp tang. There are a few bedraggled dandelions. Faintly tatty bluebells are pinned up against fences.
I fight through nettles to reach a bough of luxuriously frothing apple blossom. Drat, but the light’s in the wrong place to take a decent enough shot. The neighbours probably think I’m bonkers (again).
I half-clamber onto somebody else’s wall and grasp at branches. This feels a bit like scrumping. Hope I won’t get into trouble.
Bindy’s loving this. I’m distracted, and she can worm her way into back gardens, willy-nilly. A snail munches, slowly, on a leaf. Shell swaying on his back. He loves it here too.