A cloudless blue sky, sunny, but not yet as warm as it looks. Hares danced through the field yesterday. Who knows what magic there will be today. Time is always different on the lane. Everything has its hour, day, month or year and in nature that sense of continuation is calming in the uncertain days of lock down.
Dandelions are growing in profusion, their bright yellow heads facing the sun, competing with the lesser Celandine who are still flowering.
New sycamore leaves are unfurling providing a mottled shade above the primroses and daisies on the lane close to the old mill while the purpler coloured ash flowers are just appearing, but then ash is nearly always the last tree in leaf.
The native bluebells are spreading further down the lane from last year and amid the lush green shades of purple and yellow predominate at this time of year. The violets are still carpeting the woodland right down to the stream and now the vetch flowers are joining them. Each finding its own place.
I found an old hazel nut lying open in the undergrowth this morning. It’s rather like coming across treasure. There are red squirrels and mice living nearby, who knows who managed to get this one. It is so perfect in its shape I could look at it for hours.
The old mill now has a new owner and carefully, bit by bit he is scraping away the years of neglect working back through time to find the mill that was built centuries ago. It’s a delicate task revealing the man made structures and maintaining the wealth of natural beauty. It’s a challenge I’m sure he will succeed in and we all wish him well.