brown.thalia
Morning Glory Grey Lake
Set off early this morning down to the misty Somerset levels at Grey Lake. The reed beds were encrusted with dew it was cool damp and still. Not a butterfly in sight but the reeds were filled with a subtle rhythmical birdsong...
How I wish I knew my birds I knew neither the birdsong or the delightful little flocks of birds flying amongst the reeds.
The hedge Bindweed was the star of the show weaving amongst the reeds luminous in the early morning light living up to its West country name of " Morning Glory".
I called in at Hatch Hill on the way home both sites had a beautiful stillness but there was a marked difference between them. Grey Lake was moist and fecund, awaking to a new and vibrant season whereas the silence at Hatch hill was profound. The earth bone dry with the odd butterfly roosting, but the season is done as the magical hill rests until the Spring.
Morning Glory Grey Lake
Set off early this morning down to the misty Somerset levels at Grey Lake. The reed beds were encrusted with dew it was cool damp and still. Not a butterfly in sight but the reeds were filled with a subtle rhythmical birdsong...
How I wish I knew my birds I knew neither the birdsong or the delightful little flocks of birds flying amongst the reeds.
The hedge Bindweed was the star of the show weaving amongst the reeds luminous in the early morning light living up to its West country name of " Morning Glory".
I called in at Hatch Hill on the way home both sites had a beautiful stillness but there was a marked difference between them. Grey Lake was moist and fecund, awaking to a new and vibrant season whereas the silence at Hatch hill was profound. The earth bone dry with the odd butterfly roosting, but the season is done as the magical hill rests until the Spring.