Black & white & green

In the early evening, I stood waiting for the lesser whitethroat in the hedge by the orchard. I saw something that might answer, but at a distance, and I can't be sure of its song, either. I had more success walking slowly down to cowslip corner past the pond. I thought I'd seen the last of the wheatears, but I found another (the same?) male on a pile of flagstones. And I lay on my back on the mown path by the cowslips, and listened to a blackcap singing in the hedge, a lovely melodious song, pitched somewhere between blackbird and robin. On the way back to supper, the swallows were dipping the pond again, not drinking but picking off insects near the surface. Perhaps that was what they were doing yesterday too.

Yesterday I walked the northern side edges, and audited the mature hedge: mostly hawthorn and roses, bramble, blackthorn, hazel, willow and pussy willow, punctuated by ash, elder, field maple, and the occasional wild cherry. When I've done the southern side, I'll have a good idea of where best to find raw materials for potions. Today I inspected the new hedging; I haven't looked closely for a few weeks. Along the section near the pond, it is in leaf and swelling up against its clear plastic protective cover, much like the bursting of Dr Bruce Banner into the Incredible Hulk.