The beginnings of spring!

23rd February 2014

    As I stepped out, geese spoke and they flew west. There was just a light shower as I walked down Carpenters Lane, then the rain cleared. A strong cool breeze blew up the valley and over the hill and the tree tops rattled and squeaked. Deep into Hurst Wood, the woodcutter's shack was quiet, with stacks of logs ready for cleaving. The winter's wake was being cleared of wind felled trees, tidied and cleared; keeping the tree surgeons busy and the sound of chain saws was all around. The morning was dull and grey to begin with, but Snow Drops in places brightened the paths. In the woods, Dogs Mercury (in blossom sometimes), Lords & Ladies and Bluebells are piercing the ground, with daffodils bringing sunshine. Doris's bench, I left for more hardy souls, and the cold wind forced me to shelter in Long Bottom Wood for tea, although there were no other walkers about this morning.
    The river was much calmer, more its old self, and the water was clear. The Brambly orchard still had green apples lying among the rotting fruit, but the Fieldfare appreciate them. I left the river and breakfasted at Yopps Green with Chaffinches flapping and darting about me as if I wasn't there. All the birds were twitterpated, as Disney called the sexual habits of our avian friends. The sky brightened a little here as I supped my soup amid the antics of the birds.
    At Plaxtol, along the road, I stopped at the war memorial on Church Hill. This year being the 100th anniversary of that filthy conflict. All sides are dedicated to the Great War. So many courageous names from such a small parish. Among them, the name of Edward Cazalet, Second Lieutenant, 1st Battalion Welsh Guards. His family once owned the Fairlawne estate of farmland and woodland; one thousand acres from Hadlow to Borough Green. He died fighting for his country aged 22. The estate is now owned by Prince Khalid ibn Abdullah Al Saud: 'nough said.
    The wind was stronger and cooler as I went across country to Dunks Green. The footpath behind The Rifleman pub was lined with flowering Gorse bushes which were smelling sweetly of coconut. I startled a small black long-haired pig who was grubbing around the hedge and he startled me! Back at the river at the trout farm, there was a sheltered spot in a small copse where the river divides (one being the old mill stream) and a final cuppa was enjoyed in peace with birdsong.