Jotted thoughts:
Windy, quite bleak, bare, wind in the bare trees, blown pussy willow
Huge willows, ancient oaks bare of leaves
Bare hedgerows staffed by birds
Signs of Spring coming, not quite arrived, daffodils, lichens, primroses, blossom
Soft, pale, faded colours except for the few flowers
Sheep in dull fields, no lambs
Funny roadsigns: the alternative spelling of Glanford/Glandford on one fingerpost, the road sign with the lorry warning of the hump-backed bridge
‘Private’ signs – claims of ownership of a superficially wild landscape.
Always signs of the management of nature and the landscape: not just the buildings but hedge cutting etc.
Water courses, walking round the old harbour – now no sign of the sea, lying water; tall windswept grasses, fluffy but dead
Dirt at the edge of the road, more cars than I expected, DIY on houses and hedges, the first cut of a lawn
Mainly modest, vernacular architecture
Elizabeth Baker in the graveyard (my maiden name)
Silence in the church after the noisy latch, extraordinary organ from the Great Exhibition – incongruous in the modest church.
