Don't Have a Cow!

90 minute walk today, on a bright but slightly cool day. Pleasant enough, which was in marked contrast to what was going through my head today. Difficult day during this endless crisis that feels like it will never end.

Walked right the way to the end of town, cursing my Bush Pocket Dab radio which has terrible reception and atrocious battery life, which is really disappointing. The reviews were better than that.

The cows have re-appeared in the field down by the North Weir, but they were docile and didn't bother anyone, feeding on the grass and chewing cud under the trees. There was a lovely brimstone out flying by the Trent View new builds, bright yellow in the sun.

Looking back through my records I only have one good photograph of a brimstone, taken SIX years ago.

The main news of the day is that I've finally seen my first swift from my garden, slicing about the sky over Asda near where they have nest sites in the Victorian housing. When you see the first one, you see loads the next day, screaming about, and that is what I'm hoping.

Si

All text and i,ages copyright CreamCrackeredNature 05.05.20

A Voyage of Two Churches

First up, I've just returned from a Burn's Night supper at the family home, which was really nice, but alas the shot of whisky I had to mark the "piping in" of the haggis - actually the haggis being taken from the oven accompanied by a rendition of Burn's famous "Address to a Haggis" via a tablet - has given me a thumping headache and reminded me why I never drink the stuff.

I've had a very good walk today, taking myself out to Hawton and then to Farndon, visiting the churches, and looking out for a new bike at the second hand bike shop. It took me about 2 and a bit hours, probably covered about 7 miles, and enjoyed the radio and the sense of being outside on a rather crisper day than we've had recently.

It was grey, and I didn't really see much if interest to be honest, no winter thrushes in the fields although plenty of finches and tits around the hedgerows. There are highland cattle in the muddy lowland fields, and roach being caught in the river.

Sadly my bike hunt came to nought; the second hand bikes are nice, but no cheaper than new ones! Need to find one better for longer distance rides.

And changes gear when I ask it to from time to time.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 25.01.20

Running in the Mud

Without there being any super heavy rain, the persistent mizzle has gotten the ground very heavy, and I've been running about on it, in the dark, like any not very sane man would do in his middle 40s.

The urban farm along Clay Lane is a real squelch of a place, but then highland calves are getting stuck into their feed having been moved across the lane, and the horses are happily stuck into their bales of hay.

On other farms, the beet is in and the ground seems to be being reseeded with bright orange seeds that look rather like lentils. Either beet seeds do indeed look like lentils, or the farmer in Hawton is trying a radically new cash crop, as well as planting his agricutural vehicles smack across the path and forcing me to go ankle deep in the heavy Nottinghamshire soil.

Lovely! But I'm used to it.

I hope you have all found a way of keeping active in this misty, wet time. Last night the Geminid meteors were clouded out, tonight the moon shines bright through the window. Venus is becoming more and more dominant low in the west in the early morning. The robins have started to sing at night.

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 14.12.16

A Snowy Walk to Southwell

Well, one of my ambitions for my time off has been chalked off; walking to Southwell and not getting lost like happened when I tried to run there in 2014. I figured I'd walk it today rather than run it, as my legs were a little bit stiff, and I figured it would give me a chance to listen to some Radio 4, followed by the brilliant Radclife and Maconie show on 6 Music in its entirety.

The sky was blue when I started off, but you could see various heavy grey downpour veils on the western horizon. One of them was bound to catch up with me sooner or later, but I had my yellow cagoule of sexiness with me, and in my walking trousers I thought I'd be OK.

First landmark on route was the Wednesday auction on the old cattle market, where a crowd of excited punters were bidding over such valuable goods as broken lawnmowers, filthy children's toys and empty plastic buckets. Better selection today than some days; I've seen endless boxes of coathangers or stacks of dirty jam jars for sale on previous occasions.

From here it was a slog across the rugby club and farmer's fields to Kelham village. Plenty of bird song in the hedgerows, but there weren't the flocks of lapwing I've seen around here on other occasions, and no kestrels were on hovering duties looking for prey.

After crossing the river at Kelham, you then head past the underground reservoir and follow a cross country path that skirts a couple of woods, before ascending sharply through some farmer's fields. Lots of peacocks were flushed up by my footsteps, and the sun was bright and warm.

You reach the highest part of the route here, and there are wide, if not massively amazing, views of the surrounding countryside.

After this section, the ground descends towards the main Mansfield road, reaching a lane that crosses the Kelham Hills towards Caunton. The hedgerows on this lane were lively with birds, and at ground level flowers like ground ivy and dandelion provided food for some species or other of solitary bee, and red and white campion added extra colour.

There then followed a hairy crossing of the A617, a dangerous road at any time, before ascending a sharp climb as the fearsome looking clouds began to close in. A herd of calves proved to be the more immediate concern, as they decided I must have food for them, and decided to chase me en masse down a slope. I only just reached a kissing gate before I was crushed to death, or eaten, by thirty tons of Fresians.

When I reached safety, I taunted them with the news that none of them were good looking enough to make a Pink Floyd album cover. Atom Heart Mother??? You wish.

By now I reached Upton Village, home of the famous Horological institute. There's probably millions of pounds worth of history timepieces in the building, but I was on a hike, not Bargain Hunt.

It was just after Upton that it began to snow for about 20 minutes. Luckily, I was prepared.

By the time I reached the edge of Southwell, the sun had come back out and orange tips were fluttering along the hedgerows. I've already seen more this year than last, where the cold spring seemed to wipe them out. Not that this one is any better I suppose. I passed the Workhouse, one of the affluent town's major attractions.

I then turned onto Church Street, where I used to go to school. The school itself is now gone, flattened to make way for housing, before the re-excavation of a Roman villa on the site revealed that it was a far more important site than previously realised and everything was put on hold. It just sat there as various heaps of ugly rubble until a local benefactor bought the site for its future preservation. What happens now, no-one knows.

The main objective had been to visit Potwell Meadows nature reserve, but it was only a small site and other than lots of rabbits and cowslips, not a lot to see today however, and I had a bus to catch. It will be pretty later in spring I think, when the yellow rattle comes out.

Finally, a trip through the Minster grounds. In the Bishop's Palace, it appeared they were getting ready to burn a witch, and in the gift shop "Ruby Sweet" bottles of communion wine were available, much better value, I'd say, than the rubbish alcohol free ones.

You need something warming after those endlessly long services in there that I remember from childhood.

Have a great one!

Si

All text and images copyright CreamCrackeredNature 27.04.16