Winter's last gasp

PLEEEEASE can we go for a walk! 

Winter left behind a late and strangely localised blast of snow as it slammed the door shut on itself at the end of last week as recorded here. (At least, I hope that's what it's done, though it might be a trifle early to start celebrating.)

The day before it was hailstones ... 

... and there's been some ice and frost too. 

Best of all, another walk in frost and mist and sunshine - perhaps not quite as stunning as the one we experienced at the beginning of December, but still quite breathtaking. 

But by far the most prevalent weather has been rain. It has rained and rained and rained, and looking at the forecast, it's not over yet.

Out on the Brabazon development, the area of land in the far field that was churned up by heavy plant has gone from this:

to deep deep mud: 

If you try to cross it, you risk losing your wellies, as well as your balance and dignity, as I came close to discovering. 

There's been a little sun too, and I'm looking forward to seeing more of it as the days gradually get longer. 

And sometimes there's been both - sun and rain ... 

This shifting weather has made for some stunning light in which to admire the winter trees before they start getting dressed for summer.

The ash by the kissing gate into The Small Dark Wood of the Mind

The ash at the foot of the field

The oak in the golf club car park

The fungi on show is in winter mode ... 

TOP:  1 & 2. Crystal brain fungus? (That's a wild guess)  3. Slime mould  4. Turkey tails  BOTTOM:  5 & 6. Oak bracket fungus  7 & 8. Jelly ears - not a lot of them to the ground this year  

... while underfoot there are definite hints of spring:

CLOCKWISE top left:  1. Cuckoo pint not yet in flower  2. Celandines  3.  First buttercup of the year  4. First dandelion of the year  5. Last year's stinking irises amongst this year's growth  6 & 7. The little elder tree at the foot of the hollowing oak in leaf, and the hollowing oak itself in bud  8. Red dead nettle  9. Hazel catkins  10. A first - dog violets in Rooky Wood. (Usually, flowers here turn out to be litter on closer inspection.)

One late afternoon this last week almost had the feel of evening about it - not the wintry, dark-at-4pm-and-huddled-under-a-blanket sort, but the duskiness of spring evenings when you can get out for a walk after work, and it made me think what a soothing word - and time - evening is: an even-ing of the fretful spirit after a day's work. There wasn't a sunset - it was too cloudy - but when there is, it'll be visible from the field again, and that means spring and the joy of summer evening walks to come. 

And a kestrel! There was a kestrel too, oh my heart.

Meanwhile, the rook that yelps like a dog is making itself heard in the rookery, and how lovely to know that like us, it's survived another winter ...

... while the lengthening days are embellished with quarrelling jays, drumming woodpeckers, yaffling woodpeckers, bumbling bumbles, all evading the mediocre camera on my phone. But not this magpie, that was making the strangest fizzling noise to its mate ... 

... and these gorgeous long-tailed tits in the brambles. 

Also, an honourable mention to this raptor I encountered, a Harris's hawk, native to Central and South America. 

Talking of which, the right of way along the side of the skylarks' field, next to the railway cutting, has been reopened, but the path that used to meander between between pools of tufted vetch and rosebay willowherb in summer looks like this now ... 

... and the field itself is lost. 

I have heard skylarks singing on the edge of the old airfield, though; hoping very much they'll get an uninterrupted attempt at nesting there this year. 

Meanwhile, the scrub on the Common has been almost completely cut back, despite promises that it would be left undisturbed, with only paths cut through. 

This is disappointing, and could be an explanation for why we see muntjac and roe deer tracks in the Field of the Hollowing Oak much more often than in previous winters.

The Small Dark Wood of the Mind has also been subject to more tree-felling, opening up views of West Way, the road that runs through the lower part of Airbus complex.

Meanwhile on the golf course, the holes in the hedges that allow wildlife to pass through the wildlife corridor have been blocked again - though with the deer displaced from the Common, I don't give much for their chances of staying that way ... 

... the larger shallower lake, that was a haven of biodversity, has been fillled in with several tonnes of earth plonked on top, and apparently they're going to fill in the beautiful smaller pond too. I was once buttonholed at a poetry reading by a man who was keen to impress upon me that not all golfers are ecological vandals, but it's hard to believe him on this evidence. 

Don't want to finish on a bum note, though it's hard not to feel depressed by the assault on wildlife that we're witnessing. Here's Cwtch having fun. Thank goodness for dogs and the excuse to get out into nature every day.