Flyladyphotography By Wendy Cooper

  Then April arrived.  With an overwhelming amount of news bulletins, statistics, frightening information and continuing to adjust to the new ‘normal’, my local patch wander has given something of a respite, reset and refresh – Nature really has become, for certain health aspects, the best medicine… There is something very comforting in watching a familiar clock ticking away the seasons with all the players, whether flora or fauna making their expected timed entrances and simply getting on with it…    Green shoots began to burst their buds, With more Wood Anemones appearing, now joined by the brilliant yellow of Lesser Celandine And Greater Stitchwort putting in an appearance. The Bluebell buds swelled, in preparation for a grand display, Whilst the Blackthorn came into bloom and provided food for Peacocks and Small Tortoiseshells as well as numerous Bees, hoverflies and other minibeasts. Here and there hints of brilliant pink appeared as Scarlet Campion came into flowe

  Somebody slammed the brakes on…  There was me with so many plans for this year of where to go and what to watch and then suddenly (with good reason) the world closed in.  Gone was the comforting un-thought about everyday routine, suddenly the rumblings in the news had changed all our lives and a rapid adjustment to the new normal of working from home, staying in, staying safe and dodging an unseen deadly enemy was needed.  With cancelled plans and wishes scattered around, instead of taking my little Local Patch for granted (as we often can with the nearby and convenient) it has given me a chance to watch the woodland and meadow wake up properly from the winter, noticing the little changes from week to week; so here is a slightly overdue local patch catch up for March – I have seen rather a lot, so April is covered in a separate blog! When I last wrote, the Frog Ball had just finished and I had begun to notice the first Primroses appearing and then blooming. Along the woodland m

  No Frogs… Second week running I’ve been up to the little pond in the woods and they are still not there.  I am hoping that they are running late – last year the Annual Frog Ball, with reasonable attendance, took place the last week of February, despite the pond having become extremely shallow; currently, after all the rain we have had, it is back to it’s proper levels, with the water clear and dark.   The Frogs on my tiny pond in the garden however have been singing away amidst the remnants of last year’s grasses for the last few weeks. Whilst I stood near the pond in the woods, waiting in case my footsteps had alerted any amorous amphibians to dive amidst the ripples, there was a fierce cold wind whistling past me from across the field outside, I put my hand upon one of the slender tree trunks. The base of the Tree was sturdy and still, yet its’ crown was swaying and flexing in the wind.  Through my hand I could feel the muscles and fibres within vibrating and flexing with the mov