The bluebells were over in Bristol, but there were some still flowering just twenty miles up the road, on Cam Peak in Gloucestershire, so I headed up with Cwtch, who's always keen to visit new places. (Not that it was a new place for me, but with 16 years having elapsed since my last visit, it was still exciting.)
The hill is 16 years steeper to climb than it was back then, when tackled head on from the car park. I felt like the English Woman who Went Up a Hill and then Went Up a Mountain. Or maybe it's because I was still in my forties then and now I'm well into my sixties.
bluebells and red campion
Just when I thought I might not make it, I found I'd made it.
Cwtch and I then made for Cam Long Down hill fort, which, again, I'd walked all those years ago with my friend, Jill, and my old collie, Ted, who wasn't old at all back then - I think he was just a year old.
There was a lovely sunken lane to walk up onto the down. It was so deep the violets were almost fluorescent.
Along the skyline, from far left: May Hill, the Malvern hills, and Bredon Hill
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Downham - or Smallpox - Hill, the latter name deriving from an 18th century isolation hospital sited there
Looking south to Nibley Knoll and Tyndale Monument, which I can see when looking north from my bedroom window
May Hill and the River Severn just coming off its huge meanders around Arlingham and Awre
On the return route, Cam Peak was in view for much of the way.
This time we walked around the back of it, through the little wood that was still quite bluebell-y.
There's something so magical about bluebells growing in the open. They are one of my very favourite sights on Dartmoor, but Cam Peak being only 20 miles from home, these make a very acceptable alternative during these days of shoulder impingement and increased petrol prices.
bluebells and red campion; violet; ground ivy and buttercups; ground ivy and herb Robert; bluebell; bluebells and cowslips; forget-me-nots; bluebells, red campion and whitethorn
While the jaunt to Cam Peak was on the spur-of-the-moment, the trip the following day to North Meadow in Cricklade with my friend Cathy had been longer in the making - in fact, I'd been keeping an eye on 'Fritillary Watch' for a couple of years before we got around to setting a date.
whitethorn flowers and berries
Why fritillary watch? Well, incredibly, North Meadow - which consists of traditionally managed Lammas lands - contains no less than 80% of the country's snake's head fritillaries growing in the wild.
We set off in a clockwise direction, and saw - well, a pretty paltry amount of fritillaries, to be honest. Cathy apologised for not being able to come last week when they were at their height, but although there were a few that were over, there weren't a huge number of them. It was a bit of a mystery. We walked on.
Cuckoo Flower or Lady's Smock
A very high foot bridge over the infant Thames, suggesting how high the waters might rise in times of flood
Every now and then I knelt to take photos of individual fritillaries. Every now and then I wondered if I'd be able to get back up - but managed it.
Then, about two-thirds of the way around, just as we were reconciling ourselves to a slightly disappointing trip, we spotted ... more fritillaries. In fact, a lot more fritillaries.
Then, about two-thirds of the way around, just as we were reconciling ourselves to a slightly disappointing trip, we spotted ... more fritillaries. In fact, a lot more fritillaries.
Finally, this was more like what we'd imagined. A triumphant jaunt snatched from the jaws of defeat!
Hemlock Water Dropwort in the River Churn ...
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... and a holly blue butterfly
There was just time to drop a couple of my books into the nearby Little Free Library, and we headed home, well pleased with our morning out. Bluebells are glorious, but other flowers are available.
