An early start

It was an early start today because I had family and their dog here prior to heading off for a well earned holiday. I had promised I would be up by 5.30 – in the event it was a little later but still in time to see them off. Always when I have something like this I don’t sleep very well – I wake to check the time. Now I am feeling a bit tired. I should be used to it because my sister and her husband used to do this on a regular basis and when I was working I would set off at the same time to make a super early start. Not so now. But the washing is on the line and the house is tidy. As I write I am drinking some tea and looking out at the garden. I have just spotted a Thrush, some leaves have fallen from the trees and the roses are looking pink, blousy and rather good. Not so the weather – it is damp, misty and quite chilly compared with yesterday. The broad beans need picking but I dare not do so because I have promised the young boy next door that he can help. Each evening we two go for our walk down the lane and we chatter away about farming, nature, how he has got on at school, how the solar fountain is doing and if I need to reposition the solar panel and if we think there will be a good crop of conkers this year. Last evening I had two walks because my visitors dog needed a walk. We were in luck when it came to the sunset sky. It was quite spectacular. 

On my visits to see Himself each day I drive along beside the sea. On one occasion it was so clear I could see the coast of France with ease. Yesterday the sun sparkled and glinted on the lazy aquamarine waves. Dungeness and the wide bay were set out before me with the misty blue of the Sussex coast beyond. Across the Channel, silhouetted on the horizon, the bulk of container ships while closer a small boat making its way. Each day I glance at the sea and try to imagine what it might have looked like when there were sailing ships. I can’t help think it might have been rather more picturesque! If the weather doesn’t change today the sea will look entirely different – no bright light on each ripple but instead a dull grey undulating tide crashing on the beach. 

As I make my way across the Marsh – heading out or back – I am continually struck by the variety and sheer colourfulness of the verges that border the lanes. No mow May has extended well into June along the narrow ditch lined lanes and while this is irritating sometimes for me as driver – I can’t see where the verge ends and the ditch begins and thus if I meet something large negotiating passing is a worry – it is also a bonus when it comes to the variety of plants that border the road. Bright golden buttercups and trefoils mingle with the scarlet blood red of poppies, while bugloss rises in vibrant blue spires among the tall towering hogweed platforms of snowy white. More subtle the magenta pink mallow shyly mingles with the comfrey and oxeye daisies. In the hedgerow wild roses and sweetly fragrant elder flowers splash the green with creamy white. In the ditches the sea green reeds have speared their way skywards up through the ragged grasses – soon their seed heads will rise like ragged prayer flags in purply browns blown and whispering in the wind. Down “our” lane the pond is close to dry and the ducks have forsaken it for waterways new – probably the deeper ditch across the fields. But the Heron is still rising from the shallow murky waters as evening falls. Elegant and splendid in his flight he levers himself up and heads slowly across the silent landscape into the sunset. A scene that has played itself out since time began and I am privileged to be able to share it with the tranquil natural world around me. The quiet is calming, peaceful and timeless with the sheep grazing, the dusty lane and the distant views of long remembered Sussex hills of a former life. 

I suspect that today on my walk with my young companion I shall have to go litter picking. He is very community aware when it comes to litter and has absolutely no time for those who dispose of their plastic bottles, cans and fast food containers by throwing them out of car windows into the countryside. He thinks they should be punished but as they still persist in littering we go out armed with a “litter picker” in his case and a plastic bag in mine and collect what we can find. Initially we did this down “our” lane but now – I have been told – we need to extend our litter picking to the whole village!!!! There is certainly plenty of stuff we could collect!! Old drink cans, plastic bottles of various sizes, coffee cups and lids as well as bits of plastic lurk in the grass. I don’t really have much of a problem with “natural” stuff on the verge but I imagine some people do and certainly people can get very exercised about dog poo even when it is on lonely rarely used lanes etc. I imagine some would also be distressed by the remains of the dead Mink we found on the verge a short while ago. Not so my young companion. He was curious as to what animal remains we had found and soon we identified it – each day from then on we had to inspect the site – had it mouldered away somewhat more? Was I sure it was a Mink? Look at the ferocious teeth. Eventually most of it disappeared. Carried off by a fox I expect, leaving only the naked skull and, a little way away, the lower jaw picked clean and stark white among the ragged seeded grasses. Unlike those who do not live close to the natural world my young companion is not concerned about this but instead curious and interested. We also spotted the track of a Fox – over the verge, under a gate and across a small platt (a small field) the grass was flattened in a narrow pathway where the animal had placed his feet in his own footsteps. In another place we noticed evidence of a Badger. It is heartening and intensely pleasing that this youngster is observant, curious and so interested in the world around him and that he cares about this farming, natural environment – I do so wish that in the ever present election fervour there was some obvious concern for our farming and rural heritage and the lives of those of us who live out our time in such places. I feel that politicians will “talk the talk” if challenged but actually have little if any concern with rural affairs let alone care about how people make ends meet in the countryside where we are dependant on cars because we have no public transport, rely on oil for heating because we don’t have access to gas and would like to see real farming policies that work towards food security in our country. We are the forgotten, in this area, when it comes to canvassing for our vote. We have had no literature through the door, no visits from candidates – I suspect we are only a tiny percentage of voters and complacency rules.