Other flowers are available

At the end of April, I thought I'd had all the bluebells I was going to get, at least in Bristol, but there were a few late surprises in some more sheltered pockets, like this lane at Winterbourne in South Gloucestershire ...

... and also at nearby Monk's Pool Nature Reserve.

There were also cowslips still blooming in one of the meadows on Purdown beneath the BT tower.

Mostly, though, it's been a glorious month of cow parsley and wild garlic, both of which bloom in profusion at Badock's Wood, in the Trym gorge ...

... and in Hermitage Wood, high above the River Frome on Purdown.

Oh, and mustn't forget my favourite whitethorn, here also in Hermitage Wood ... 

... and further upstream on the Frome, at Winterbourne Down.

And, of course, lots of other flowers too ... 

row 1: cowslip; red campion; yellow mustard; ground ivy; whitethorn x 2; comfrey

row 2: greater stitchwort; wood avens; cuckoo flower (lady's smock); hedge mustard; dog rose; jack-by-the-hedge (garlic mustard); bluebells, yellow archangel, wild garlic; hemlock water dropwort

row 3: horse chestnut, whitethorn and cow parsley; green-winged orchid; rowan; forget-me-not; flag iris; lesser celandine; columbine; elder blossom

row 4: fringe cups; yellow archangel; buttercup and vetch; wood speedwell; wild strawberry; herb Robert; black mustard; alkanet

The squeeze-belly stile leading down to Wickham Glen was also beautifully dressed with cow parsley and alkanet ... 

... while downstream at Eastville Park lake, there were cygnets, ducklings, goslings, cootlings and, rather ominously, the local heron. 

Where there are lots of flowers, there are insects, but most of them far too flighty for me to take a photo of.

Fungi don't move around much, though there's not a lot about at present:

Good times for hoggin finding, though: last year's leaf litter is gone, mud is no longer an issue, other people are out walking and displacing soil, and spring showers make the ground soft enough to dig bits out:

On Halfpenny Bridge at Snuff Mills

Path at Vassalls Park

There was deep sadness one morning when I was walking at Blaise and found that a favourite tree - a sweet chestnut estimated to be between four and six hundred years old - had fallen in the four weeks since I'd last visited it. 

I'd got into the habit of photographing it every time I saw it: above, on the left hand side, is how it looked in November, March and early April. 

Nearby in the wood, there was another fallen tree - a beech - blocking the path ...

... and another in the woods at Winterbourne Down. It's been such a year for falling trees, with no signficant wind storms to cause it. I can only assume it's down to extremes of climate - a hot dry summer, followed by a very wet winter, followed by a dry spring.

Other sadnesses: a fallen bluetit and a fallen nest. 

More predated bluetit feathers here, along with an (early) moulted great spotted woodpecker tail feather, a goldfinch primary and a tawny owl secondary.

After the loss of one old friend, making the acquaintance of a new one - this magnificent, railing-eating oak in the woods at Bishop's Knoll - was a comfort. 

Old Sneed Park nature reserve

Old Sneed Park Lake

After the hurly-burly of spring, Cwtch and I are looking forward to summer, where you can wander along side paths and end up getting lost in woods you know perfectly well all the rest of the year. Bring on the peace of the deep, dark woods.

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.