The World has Turned Yellow

An early run, and all-a-sudden the oilseed rape has blossomed, and the air is full of their cloyingly sweet oily smell which actually makes it quite hard to breathe. Brimstones, peacocks and small tortoiseshells still had the skies to themselves - no orange tips or holly blues in this part of the world yet. No buzzards around beacon hill, but others were seen over the river over the farmers' fields towards Kelham.

Later on, had cause to visit Kings Mill Hospital, and in the bit where they kick you out to let the patients eat in peace, me and my stepfather visited Sutton in Ashfield reservoir. I taught him the call of the chiff chaff, and we looked at the coots, moorhens and usual ducks. A trio of swans flew past, their wings swising audibly through the air, a slight whistle thrown in too.

There was an interloper or two; first up, a solitary and very dashing male pochard did his thing - his chest nut head noble upon the water, before he too gave us a fly past, showing off his smart plumage to even better effect.

And then, diving about close to shore, a couple of little grebes, or dabchicks, splashed about, diving in the water before energing covered in glistening droplets of water, flashing in the sun before it hid behind a cloud.

Looking North

Looking South

Peacock on dandelion in my garden. Beautiful