A hot, slightly humid day, so I decided to seek some breeze on the Moor Walk.
The harebells are in bloom at the top of the lane. My favourite flowers: so delicate and subtle, yet always managing to survive and get noticed amongst the competing long grasses.
I had just got on to the moor when a weasel leapt out of the heather ten yards in front of me, scampered down the track, and leapt back into the heather. I had my camera in hand and ready to fire, but it was just too quick for me. As always, I was surprised at just how small weasels are: about the size of a large mouse, as contrasted with the squirrel-sized stoat. It was also surprisingly colourful: a glorious chestnut red.
Nothing much doing on the moor: too warm and still. No sign of the sought-for breeze. On the way down, I spotted some mushrooms. As ever, they were growing in old cow poo. I wonder if the mushroom spores are ingested by the cattle and pass through them, or whether they simply land on the cow pats.
Coming down from the moor, I heard a strange bird call from a garden willow at the side of the Lucky Field. I eventually spotted it flitting about, but it was too far away to make out any details. A willow warbler, I guessed, which seemed appropriate. I took a photo to see if I could discern more details at home. Later research, including listening to bird calls on the RSPB website, revealed that it was actually a chiffchaff: a bird so similar to the willow warbler that it took Gilbert White to work out they are two separate species.
Finally, on the Nook track, I gathered a few tufted vetch seed pods to sew in the garden at the base of our proto-hedgerow. I don't care if they're weeds. I like them!