I’ve been getting up and out at the same time as postman husband Dean during these hot months so I can get to the studio early and work before it gets too hot to think. It’s so peaceful down there when I arrive at 7am, just the house martins chattering above our street in and out of their nests in the eaves and a few folk setting off on their way to work or out to walk the dog. But when it comes to the weekend and there is an opportunity for a lie-in, my bodyclock is still set to wake at half past five! I’m not very good at going back to sleep. But it’s ok. I love being up early. Those first hours of the day are golden and there is always so much I want to do with them. I want to go out and smell their air. I want to do my morning pages. I want to do my yoga. I want to enjoy the stillness. I want to go out for a walk. Oh there is so much competition!
On this morning the walk won out! It was overcast for the first time in so long and the air was refreshingly cool after the last few heatwave days. I knew the thistle down was flying and the knapweed was going to seed and that I might just have a chance to photograph the goldfinches with seed in their beaks. I’ve been trying for years, something of a personal mission.
First I met a friendly little cat, heading towards me with a chirrup, tail straight up in a warm greeting. We had a nice chat. It rolled around on the dusty lane, all smiles and head boofs before getting distracted by something in the long grass and taking off.
And I was distracted too. There were so many house martins dipping and diving and clicking and circling, perhaps hundreds. Are these numbers because of all the newly fledged young? All taking to their air in joyful unison. I couldn’t tell young from old at such speed.
And then the thud of hooves, two young deer over the fence bounding away from me through the long golden grass with such cute bounces.
There’s no need to run little ones, I mean you no harm.
They stood in perfect silhouette at the top of the field deciding if they needed to run any further or whether I would take my leave. I walked on.
I saw another one in the lower field camouflaged in the rusty dock except for the twitch of an ear.
I took the path past the shed with a sedum roof, over the stile and up to the fields. A wren clicked in the tall grass, sounding a warning, a bullfinch whistled in the distance and I noted the tinge of the autumn to come. Blackberries were ripening at the edges, the pods of the rosebay willowherb were splitting open and their white fluffy seeds were spilling out. It felt good to be wearing boots for the first time in months, protecting me from the dew and the brambles.
Above my head I heard more birds chattering and I was pleased to realise they were goldfinches! They were gathering in a hawthorn tree a little too far away for me to see them clearly.
But still, they were here, I was near. We had a chance.
I followed the path through the first field, stopping to say hello to the very old elder tree, trunk wizened, branches gnarly but still producing fruit. Her berries looked juicy and I remembered I wanted to try and make some syrup this year, but not from this tree, I’d find another that had more to share.
I stood in the long bleached grass that had been left long at the edge of the field and watched the charm flitting from tree to tree through the magnification of my camera which wasn't quite magnified enough!
come closer little ones
But they took to the air again so I moved on.
I stood in a clearing that was dense with brambles, thistles and willowherbs and willed the goldfinches to come down and feast.
Wood pigeons sounded in the woods below, jays screeched, jackdaws cackled, I heard the faint calls of goldcrests the tree above me and I caught a tiny little fragment of chiff chaffing, perhaps the last for the year.
I watched a young song thrush enjoying some rowan berries.
and I saw a tree creeper making its way up a trunk but no goldfinches enjoying the seeds today!
Still, I’d have missed all this if I had stayed in bed!
It's always always good to get out.
