Don't turn your back....

Rather like London buses, I have not one but three holidays, while not arriving together, certainly follow each other fairly quickly. Thus this week was my only patrol in June and my next will fall into July when the current lushness begins its slow, slow fade towards the autumn as the rich greens and hues of the grass begin to dry.

In the woods, the bracken has unfurled its self to dominate the ground and the variety of grasses are in full stretch and flower. Everything appears at its finest - busting out all over, as the lyric goes. The plantations are hard now to walk through and the young trees, now in full leaf, make viewing through them quite difficult. The birds too are now almost silent. No more cries to mate or establish their territories. They are now fully occupied with making themselves ancestors, as Simon Barnes calls it, by raising new broods. All their energies now committed to feeding their hatchings.
There are many new arrivals in the parkland as young deer now trail at the feet of their mothers. A few weeks ago they were there, but lying low in the grass, but now they are up and totally mobile. Some of the deer, under Lucy's guidance, make their way towards us as we watch from the fence near Walker's Pond. Lucy comes close to us to nibble the grass at the fence, while the others stand off, with their in built wariness keeping a distance.

Of course, one of the better things about absence is that some changes, which week by week are slow, when viewed after several weeks can be very dramatic. The rotunda roof is now very clearly metalled and, although the scaffolding is still wrapped around the columns, the top work looks complete with some restored stone carving quite clearly seen. My next patrol will be in three weeks, so I look forward to perhaps seeing the building clear of all work.

One of the tasks we take a little responsibility for is collecting the few pieces of litter we find -the occasional can and sweet wrapper, that sort of thing. My hat goes off to the very thoughtful visitor we must have had recently. Whoever they were, they took the trouble to pack their crisp packets into a white plastic bag, so that they wouldn't blow about separately. Even more conveniently, they took the immense pain to place the bag into a hollow of a tree, which made it just visible enough for me find and remove. Why, with a bit more nouse, they might have even made the effort to take it home with them or carry it to a bin on the way to the car park.

I suppose we should be grateful they managed to do what they did.