St Michael on the Mount Without and Jack-in-the-Green arrives at Horfield

Despite having lived here all my life, there are lots of historic buildings in Bristol I've never been inside, and until very recently, one of these was St Michael on the Mount Without, a mostly Georgian church with a mid-15th century tower on the site of a Norman church, which for many years was disused, before an arson attack in 2016 placed its continued existence in doubt. 

It's in a still picturesque part of town, on a steep hillside outside the city walls, hence 'Without'. 

Lower Church Lane

St Michael's Hill

The Church of England eventually sold St Michael's and it has since become an events venue and creative space. A wedding was due to take place in the afternoon of my visit, so it was little more than a case of sticking my nose around the door, but the interior looks magnificent.

The crypt

It's not permitted to loiter in this part of town without paying homage to the tiles that gave the Cafe Wall illusion its name, a geometrical trompe l'oeil which makes parallel straight lines appear sloped. (It's to do with the colour of the grout, apparently.)

Another thing I don't do as often as I could, given I live not that far away, is going to witness the Jack-in-the-Green arrive on Horfield Common and be slain, thus releasing the spirit of summer - something which happens every first Saturday in May. When my friend Julie lived nearby, I went most years, but since she moved to Sheffield some 15 years ago, I haven't got around to doing it that often, so I resolved to go this year.

Horfield butts

While waiting for Jack and his entourage to arrive, I wandered down to look at what used to be Julie's house, where it backs onto the common. I miss her and I miss the lovely welcoming home she'd made, so it was good to see that the current inhabitants are continuing that tradition.

The arrival of Jack

Dancing the arrival of summer

Jack-in-the-Green having fallen, on-lookers take home some ivy to keep until next time

I think as Beltane falls on the first Saturday of May next year, I'll head down to the harbour in the morning and see Jack as he sets off on his journey, and if I'm up to it, follow him through the city to the Common. 

Bluebells at Cam Peak, Fritillaries at Cricklade

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

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. 

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 ... 

... 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.