Here comes the light

We're two and a half weeks further into spring than when we had that late fall of snow, but it still feels like we've yet to topple into it properly.  Part of the reason, I think, is the location of field of the hollowing oak, just below a high-ish ridge of land overlooking the Severn floodplain, where weather's apt to come barrelling off the Atlantic. So while the first blackthorn is tentatively blossoming out on the farm fields ...

... and the abandoned feed trough has planted itself with moss and stingers ... 

... up in the field of the hollowing oak, there's little to show so far for the lengthening light, and most of our colour still comes from the rubbish that gets chucked or dumped in the field and blooms all year round. 

I usually try to avoid featuring other people's detritus in my photos, but it's a bit dishonest, so here's some - not all - of what I spotted on Saturday. 

Out on the fields that are under development, there's a rather grander calibre of crap, which includes a fridge (or freezer), a mattress, a disembowelled PC and an empty bottle of Fairy Liquid. Now I get - just about - why some idiot might weary of carrying their tin of Stella around and throw it down, but why would you take a bottle of washing up liquid to a field and abandon it there?

(Someone on Facebook said they thought foxes might have done it ... in which case, maybe they were washing their soxes.)

Talking of the building of Brabazon, Cwtch and I arrived at Charlton Common a couple of weeks back to find the footpath barricaded with earth ... 

... which we promptly climbed over, being determined to make the most of walking the footpaths over the fields until the diggers turn up. (The inexplicable row of kerb stones we discovered doesn't count.)

Other creatures in the same frame of mind are the skylarks, which have started nesting out on the open ground. I hope they get the chance to raise their young in safety.

This isn't a skylark, its a robin somewhere above my head.

As I mentioned before, the cutting back of trees and scrub has opened up new areas that were previously impenetrable, at least until the building starts. Hard to believe I hadn't really noticed this magnificent goat willow by the bus stop at the junction with Charlton Road and Charlton Common. It's currently in flower ... 

... with tassels that wouldn't disgrace a cushion in a stately home.

I also encountered a grey willow in the hedgerow bounding the field by the embankment, where the access road will shortly be constructed.

I took another walk along and inside the hedge, because there's always more to spot, like this nicely framed view of Fir Tree Cottage and barn that will soon be obstructed by housing ...

and these velvet shanks. (At least, that's what I think they are.)

'Are you sure this isn't actual Dog Vomit?' asked the Northerner, who isn't as interested in slime mould and fungi as I am. 

I also found this hole in the hedge to scramble through ... 

... which has proved useful due to the inaccessibility of the kissing gate ...

... because blimey, it's rained a lot lately. 

The ditches are full ... 

... Fishpool Hill is living up to its name ... 

... and the paths are slippery as soap. 

Cwtch's friend, Ronnie, has been having a great time splashing in pools on the flooded fields ...

... though Cwtch is far more circumspect. 

If you're one for country lore, you might look at the respective progress of the hollowing oak at the top of its field and the ash in the hedgerow at its foot, and conclude it has all been foretold by nature, and we're in for a soak, rather than a splash ... 

... though some of the ashes are still sporting their rather creepy black leaf buds that look like swollen toe nails.

Also a little bit creepy is this blood feather I spotted up the field of the hollowing oak, just six weeks after the magpie tail-blood-feather I found in almost the same spot. Judging by its size, I think it's a jackdaw's secondary flight feather, and I hope Chacky survived the losing of it. 

And yet despite the snow, despite the rain, spring is inching forwards, even here. For a start, the chiffchaffs are back ... 

... and there are, at least, cowslip leaves, along with burgeoning hogweed, red dead nettles, white violets in bloom, celandines, forget-me-nots, dandelions, speedwell, mare's tails and curiously advanced elderflowers, considering the lack of blackthorn blossom. 

There are still some of last year's leaves about, now ghosts of themselves ... 

... and dead shrews, which don't seem to be to the taste of the local foxes ... 

... but we're back on summer time, the sun is setting over Avonmouth, and all the light of the coming season is waiting.