I was waiting at the bus stop after visiting my father this morning and a red kite sailed over my head. I have seen one or two patrolling the tiny village in the past but this was the closest it had got – unfortunately it looks very small in a hurried smartphone photograph.
They must be in the top ten of the most majestic sights to be seen in the English countryside – the phrase poetry in motion being completely accurate in this case.
The May (Hawthorn) is well out now. I took this photograph last week. For me this is the most evocative native shrub; the pungent scent of its open flowers never failing to take me back to my childhood in a remote village in Wiltshire (England). There was very little home work in those days (early Sixties) and the children would be out playing in the fields and hedgerows almost immediately after getting home from school.