Is it possible that the hedgerows get more beautiful every year?
I have a theory that we’re genetically coded to greater appreciate natural beauty as we age to compensate for our gradual slowing down.
So perhaps it’s just that my years are advancing, but right now a walk down any lane is a true delight.
Bluebells, fading, but still fragrant, many shades of campion, cow parsley, tall buttercups, closing at dusk, sorrel – its bitter leaves now giving way to its rusty flower, foxgloves reaching for the sky, buzzing with bees relieved to have a pollen feast at last. Furze and honeysuckle concentrate the perfume.
This morning a slight haze concentrates the colours, and the scents from the night are still strong.
The chirping of a thousand little birds in Nancherrow Valley and two dogs happy with their walk.
And a beautiful Jersey coming offer her greetings.
All is well in St Just.