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.