As reliable an early signifier of spring as anything else — and the crocuses are early this year. Nor has their February arrival diminished them in number, certainly not on this lawn in front of Lancaster Castle, anyway.
One of the recent candidates for “Railway pub dog”, Roxy is almost always seen standing, here or (if it’s cold) by the fire. Sitting and lying down are just things other dogs do. She is a patient creature, but I guess that’s a requirement for all candidate pub dogs. The leash is purely symbolic.
An early start for me on this Sunday morning, for a walk that bagged me the County Tops of Kent and Greater London (which are very close together in case that sounds like a more significant expedition than it was). Not a great walk scenically, but redeemed by the sight of four deer in the woods. You try capturing these guys on camera, particularly if they know you’re there, which this one clearly does — but he tolerated my efforts for just long enough before scooting away to rejoin his gang.
Somewhat continuing a theme from yesterday, but hey. Definitively, the first blossom I’ve seen of the year turns up in the courtyard of the Ellen Wilkinson Building, as it has done before (it’s a finely sheltered spot).
It’s early yet, but the world turns, and we have to start getting things ready to put into the soil. These potatoes will then sit in there for 10 months or so and, usually, we just dig up about the same number as we put in, of about the same size. So maybe we should just eat them now. But who knows, maybe this is the year they will run riot.
The guys give it the “mean and moody, but still cute” look, as if they are modelling for the blackbird version of a Hugo Boss ad. A shame this one is a little out of focus, but I couldn’t persuade them to repeat the pose, sorry.
Communicating by carving a message into a tree is known as ‘blazing’ — something I only found out immediately before posting this, thanks to the ever-fascinating Wikipedia. The most famous blazed tree is probably one in Queensland, where a message was left in 1861 for a party of explorers that was never found. I doubt this one, on the path from Hebden Bridge to Mytholmroyd, is as significant in historical terms, but obviously it meant something to someone at the time. And, thanks to this post, to me too, here and now.
Out on a walk on the hillside above our house, and my father-in-law Dave acted as the ‘spotter’ for this one, pointing out the kestrel that was hovering above the grassland, hunting for mice or sparrows. Obviously wanting its profile done, it then landed and obligingly waited on this lamp-post for a minute, so I could get the shot (that’s the old, ruined Heptonstall church behind).
A Happy New Year to you all. I mention no politics here; I will merely say that had the shot of another bird-of-prey, the hawk on 5th March, been just that little bit better in focus, that would have been my favourite shot of 2021. However, instead I will give it to the minutes-old lamb captured on April 11th.
Out on the path through the woods above the Hebden Water, someone has been dressing the trees, guerrilla-style. Happy Christmas to them, and, indeed, to you. I hope you enjoyed the day in whatever way you saw most fit. But that is, of course, true of every day.
The weir is where the herons work, in town. Maybe I return to this subject quite a lot — this particular heron might have been on the blog several times by now — but it’s sometimes a relief to see one, as on days like today (spent 95% inside, marking), there isn’t very much else to see. May they continue to fish happily away.
Being 42 