Revisting a childhood haunt.
61 seconds of why we should leave some ivy for nature. I could hear the drone from 50 yds away. This on a mid October day in Wales.
Anybody who knows me will know of my affection for this winding little B road traversing remote and rural Denbighshire. Not only the road, but the carefully placed Lucozade bottles along its length but mostly for its run of gorgeous olde telegraphe poles.
Non-descript this tiny yellow flower may be but after years of waiting this little indicator plant finally emerged from our wild-flower meadow this month. Yellow Rattle; aka Cockscomb; aka the meadow maker (Rhinanthus minor) will suck the life out of the choking grasses and give the flowers the headstart they need.
Special thanks to the dog walkers of Meifod this morning. The joyful site of a dog turd swinging in a tree fair warms the heart on a feisty mid-winter morning. And as the low sun glinted off the primrose yellow bag, I was put in mind of fragrant forest walks and the promise of the year to come.
Oh doggy bag, what treasures lie within thee?
The Berwyn Mountains from 4,500 ft this afternoon. They were lit like some coral cathedral and I was just drawn there.