Tuesday, 16 August 2011


I like the way some feathers catch in the grass and stick up like flags. 
The ones that stand out are mostly black.

The variety of feather shape, size or colour is remarkable. 
I cannot walk past a feather without picking it up. 

Tuesday, 9 August 2011

Monday, 8 August 2011

The hint of autumn

I go to the park hunting for butterflies but it is too blowy. Instead I take a look at the bigger picture. I feel around me the change of the season. In places the bracken is starting to show autumn tints.

And I find the occasional leaf showing a hint of things to come.

The magpies are moulting. They look comical with their slightly bald heads and giant, feathery black and white overcoats. I don't manage to get a picture, they're too nervous.

Another bird I am never quick enough to photograph is the swallow. Today they are dancing with the grass, collecting insects. In flight they swoop so close maybe I can feel their wing beats. But this is just a fantasy. 

Sunday, 7 August 2011

Spiders and Acorns

I managed to find a wasp spider in the park. They are mean-looking and live up to their appearance they can give a nasty bite, as this grasshopper found to his cost. Watch out for them in long grass, just above ground level and keep your distance.

I notice there are lots of acorns this year. For some reason there were hardly any last year. I picked a few to scan but they also looked good in a bowl with some old seeds from previous seasons. 

Wednesday, 3 August 2011

Too Hot

Fast or slow

Chalkhill Blue butterflies on Denbies hillside. I will avoid going into detail about what they're all so interested in.

Garden snail, France

Tuesday, 2 August 2011


The Meadow

I step into the long grass and I am immediately taken to a different place. Here everything is small, intricate and busy. The closer I look the more I become absorbed in this vast and detailed world.

With the sun comes the dizzying sound of thousands of grasshoppers, all competing to be heard. They are so small I can only see them as they scatter up in front of my boots in a spray of light brown dots. When they land they are invisible again.

Hoverflies bustle amongst the grass stems, darting so fast they appear and vanish like illusionists.

A bright Cinnabar moth catches my eye. The colours warn it’s not a tasty treat. It loves and is sitting on Ragwort, a yellow-flowered plant which it’s larvae devour.

I walk on, the more I look, the more I see and the more I want to see. I could spend many days here. Reluctantly I check the time. I have to go.

I step back onto the path and the meadow-spell vanishes in an instant. I glance back over my shoulder. I want to stay. There is so much to discover but it will have to wait until tomorrow.