Baked Washed & Blown Dry? Come for a walk

We've been baked, jet washed and blown dry in the last few weeks, and the strong winds are still reminding us of staking 'Could-Do-Better's, like this Inula magnifica who looks a little worse for wear in his drunken sea of long grass.

But apart from a bit of tidying up after the storms, the garden is in holiday mood. The season extenders grown from seed have been planted and the weeds are slowing down. The grass has paused in the heat and a sea of clover has taken its place, alive with happy noisy bees, so there's time to walk the dogs..

One of the best things about walking, is the feeling of familiarity as you pass the same spots through the seasons.  We don't own the land through title deeds, but we all belong to the land, and in a spiritual way it belongs to us.

Tramping my daily beat with my spaniels circling my heels, I get terribly excited as the first buds on the trees herald the beginning of the end of winter. With the birth of the first lambs I feel triumphant and the arrival of the wild orchids along the side of the road makes me feel protective and then positively subversive as I dream of lying down in the path of the inevitable Council mowing machines.

As I walk I feel grounded and gradually peaceful. Nature is taking its course and all is in its place in this little corner of England's Green and Pleasant land. England seems through my lifetime to have been forever going to war, but it has always been at one remove, in a distant place and often for someone else's quarrels, so despite the news and the brave friends who return, we can be thankful that for many years war has not been to us.



















Strange to think then that my favourite fields were once the spring board for D-Day. That the fields of sheep and crops were runways and Nissan huts, and that fierce dog fights took place over my house each day.

This year marks the 70th anniversary of the Battle of Britain, and to commemorate the brave American and Canadian airmen of the Ninth US Air Force and the 2nd Tactical Airforce, our local farmer Roger Munn has allowed a monument to be put up on his land in their memory.

 

I am very grateful to them for my peaceful walks.



These days the fields are the springboard for dozens of sky larks, jet propelled vertically into the sky as we pass, whilst on the way home the human fly past is almost silent:-

But the dogs have been busy collecting new weed seeds for the garden, so I won't be idle for long..

My thanks to Anni, who lives on the other side of the airfield and who gave me the black and white photos - here she is waving from her top right window:-