Was hoping for better weather last night, but didn't get it so my Willow Holt trip was a little cooler and duller than I though. And shorter!
But when I got there, just for a sparse few minutes, it was worth it to not waste a summers evening, even after a twelve hour shift in a dump of a warehouse with another twelve to follow. Without music in my ears, in the low of an evening rather than a high afternoon, the area of the holt nearest the river became mysterious, and alive with sights and sounds.
Where did those goats come from?
What are these wildflowers I photographed below reasonably badly?
What are those pretty birds with longish tails and a pale underside dancing avianly on that tree, just too far away to see clearly?
What are those other sounds, chirps cheeps churrs and zzzzurrs I can hear beneath the penetratingly sweet song of the blackbird? Is there an owl in that nest box? What about the smaller one? Questions I had no time to resolve, but wish to visit again on a brighter evening with some educatably attractive company and a bottle of wine in order to do so. And all the time in the world.
I can imagine the atmosphere increasing as a lazy and part clothed in haze sun sinks lower above the river - all manner of new things to see and hear parading themselves in front of the ignorant fool on a bicycle as he gazes at more plants wondering what they were - yes, laugh creatures furred and feathered at the figure trying desperately to see you!
But I will get better at it, I swear!
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