The first Swallow

27th April 2014

    When I awoke last night, Jupiter dominated Mars and the starlight. This morning, I walked out into grey rain. The long wet grass at Oxen Hoath soaked my legs, but the birds continued to sing, just the same. Friesians were grazing in the top pasture, and took no heed to me or the weather as I walked through, and a Cuckoo called incessantly. The new canopy, as I entered Hurst Wood at Gover Hill stayed some rain and the Bluebells brightened the morning. When I reached Doris's bench, the rain had stopped and some patches of celestial blue appeared, but across the valley, the hill over at Seal Chart, was shrouded in cloud. May is in blossom and the hedgerows were cloaked with creamy sprays.
    Long Bottom Wood was a magnificent riot of colour: White dead Nettle, Yellow Archangel and Red Campion growing thickly along the path and Bluebells painting the woodland floor. I determined to follow the Bourne home (as much as the footpaths will allow), and joined the river at Basted Mill. Bluebells and Stitchwort together is a perfect combination for beauty along the river banks. The little river Bourne is best in springtime; with the newness of green and clean smelling air. Although, for Ransomes (wild garlic), it is a good year and is growing abundantly! The meadow beyond Dunks Green was be-spattered with white Daises and yellow Dandelions; like a Jackson Pollock work of art, and the first Swallow of the year wheeled low across the vibrant field.  At the camping barn by the river at Oxen Hoath Mill (now a fish farm), I stopped for tea, and an Orange Tip butterfly crossed my path, fluttering, looking for a maid. Lords and Ladies were all about me, with the purple phallic spikes emerging from the luscious verdant envelopes. Now the Sun was shining strongly and the temperature was rising, I removed a layer, to make for home and all was well with the world.