Trédaniel plan d'eau, afternoon

The water is black and white ripples under an offwhite sky. Two boys see how far they can throw stones into it. Fish zig and zag just under the surface.

Up the road, afternoon

In puddles on smooth ground, the oval depressions in the spongey soles of my trainers act like suction cups. I stamp my heels hard to give the road smacking kisses.

The old railtrack, Gare de Moncontour, mid-morning

A derelict house below is being re-roofed: principles, purlins, rafters and batons, bright yellow new wood against old grey stone amongst winter trees. Always good to see a ruin revived.

On the way to the watermill, Guettes-es-Lievres, afternoon.

Little girl in a pink coat edges along the railings, feet in and out, balancing. I remember doing this, imagining it could be a daring act a life depended on ...

Quessoy arboretum, afternoon.

The young trees are meagre, twiggy, nondescript, yet their carefully labelled names can carry you to faraway lands, to groves filled with colour and mystery and the spirits of long-departed botanists.

Down the road, afternoon.

A sunny afternoon indoors with knitting and a film, but I regret nothing. A sparse, languid rain is setting in; the poplars are lacey and lightly coppered with leaf buds.

Down the road, late afternoon.

We come across our former neighbour, putting up a fence for his sister, who rounds the corner pushing a wheelbarrow. We fall restfully into talking of the matter in hand.

Trédaniel plan d'eau, afternoon

I spend a lot of time poring over rocks and rotten wood, moss, stone pennywort and acorn cups, dead hydrangea bracts, foxglove shoots, dried bracken fronds.

Mol is reasonably patient.

Down the road, late afternoon; avis specere

Mistle thrush in the seventh oak, flies to the fourteenth, sings again.

Three fraying vees of lapwings, high and purposeful, returning home? I wish them luck over lonely northern seas.

Down the road, afternoon.

A soft, muted day now, with birdsong sounding thick and indistinct. I look over my shoulder, and see Tom who has decided to join me. Smiles and tail wagging ensue.

Up the road, afternoon

By Bel Orient, a marron-coloured bull grazes among the pied and spotted cows, who, of a sudden, lift their heads, and, unbidden, make towards the milking sheds.
He follows amiably.

The old railtrack, Gare de Moncontour, afternoon

Joe, I'd call a friend of mine,

Is partial to a celandine.

I searched, but though last week saw many,

Now, after frost, found hardly any!

( Saw some speedwell though ... )

Up the road, afternoon

A young man, burly, crop-headed, kit-bag, jeans and loafers, walking the back road. Cheerful, face open to sun and wind, he has the air of one just dropped off, returning.

Down the road, late afternoon.

I've left my hat and gloves behind, and the east wind bites at my hands and face.

Two crows convene casually to mob a kestrel, then go on their way.

Down the road, late afternoon.

Cold still, but now the sharp, rayless disc of the sun slices through the fog. Low colour floods the world again, a world without form, but shape and line only.

Trédaniel plan d'eau, morning / Quessoy arboretum, afternoon; two for one.

Trédaniel a.m.

A misty, frosty morning, the water is smoke and mirrors. I can't believe my eyes.

Arboretum p.m.

I'm wearing new, stronger, glasses. The ground looks much closer, I feel much shorter, dwarvish.

Down the road, late afternoon.

We sit companionably on a dead tree's bones in the valley. I wonder afresh at this natural sculpture, its small worlds and familiar faces. Giving in, I take a photograph.

Up the road, afternoon

The lapwings remain, but mirabelles are venturing to blossom, when even blackthorn would be early. The bare trees seem as if surprised by their own leaflessness in the warm sunlight.

Up the road, afternoon

To cross the muddy field to the coypu pond,

I wear walking boots, not trainers. Their rigidity, the odd way they hold my feet, niggle persistently.

Arch supports might help.

The old railtrack, Gare de Moncontour, afternoon

A day like warm April, with music where
Springs through blasted granite
And over moss make tiny, sunless, singing
Waterfalls, and a hesitant mistle thrush's solo.

Galaxies of lesser celandines.

Trédaniel plan d'eau, mid-morning

We meet an enormous labrador puppy who has clearly been swimming. His polar bear coat stands up in stiff points, and he shakes out a shower of water and happiness.

Quessoy arboretum, afternoon, and following

High water between the alders, yellow dust off grey-green catkins.

Tea outside with buff Orpingtons and friends.

Homeward, trees cross-hatched black on old rose and Persian blue, the land violet.

Trédaniel plan d'eau, afternoon

The dark girl with the pushchair has heels like daggers, toes like spears, a little check skirt cut on the cross.
Tranquil, she picks and perambulates over the sodden ground.

Up the road and over the field, afternoon

The two old sisters bend my ear, the severed wood catches the camera's eye. I've still to shower and change my clothes, we don't walk far.

Somewhere, I hear curlews.

Up the road, late afternoon

The rip of a chainsaw, Victor is cutting down the last of these trees.

A line of writing erased, the treeline of home altered.

A Binsey Poplars, Bonny Portmore moment.

The old railtrack, Gare de Moncontour, mid-morning

" Stay!!!" I scream.

Mercifully she does, though panicking towards the busy road.

I careen on my backside down the embankment she can't climb.

Horror averted, I shake for some time.

Down the road, late afternoon.

A cold high wind, the scrawny trees sing and dance, the grass ripples and shivers. A flock of starlings blown about the fields scatters along the skyline like iron filings.

Up the road, late afternoon

I keep to the top road and the setting sun. I am drawn home by pintade with pink onions, garlic, pak choi, and roast potatoes, and 'Persuasion' on the telly.

Up the road, late afternoon

Walking quickly, for a dirty net curtain of rain menaces from the back hills, though momentarily the aeoliens on Bel-Air stand out whitely in the sun, whirling triskells on stalks.