I’m sure you’re all sick of the word ‘lockdown’, and the virus that shall not speak its name, so I’ll keep any references brief. I just wanted to record how things are going here ‘in the current crisis’ (sorry, I’ll start a buzzword bingo for the blog so I can’t use an irritating term more than once.)
These are extraordinary times, but I’m trying not to put extra pressure on myself to cold-pitch editors. Every man and his dog seems to be writing about their back garden nature discoveries, so it’s taking extra creative effort to be unique and I don’t have much in reserve right now. I do have another Country Diary for the Guardian in the works though so that’s a good reason to get out of the house.
I’m fortunate to be able to walk out to some good green spaces from the suburbs but they’re much busier than they were earlier in the year. Granted it’s my first spring walking the dog every day, but I’ve already had to drop a few favourite routes because of the density of people getting their daily exercise.
One of the casualties has been the bridleway from Flag Lane down to Caughall Bridge, where Caper was photographed sniffing celandines. I wrote about this stretch for the AHRC Spring Nature Diary project on the equinox before we tipped into the new season of uncertainty. It’s a really interesting project, crowd-sourcing nature writing around a particular time period and given the circumstances this year they received a lot of entries. Mine is below, follow the link in the citation for more.
I’m determined not to wear a coat to walk the dog but I soon regret it, the sun’s only putting in sporadic appearances this morning. I can feel a chill whenever it’s screened by the big cumulus clouds that sweep by like anxious thoughts. On the bridleway, the luminous leaves of hawthorn shiver in the breeze – ragged silk flags in bright lime have been unfurled, seemingly overnight. The ash looks late by comparison, still standing stark, its upright branches clattering with the wind. From my feet, lesser celandines carpet the bank in mottled green, pinned by the odd glossy yellow flower. It’s quieter than I’d expect. Contractors have been replacing fences here over the last week, so the wildlife is likely wary of further disruption. As I plod onwards past the recently ploughed field, a wren blasts out a few reassuring notes.
The Writes of Spring, 2020, p18
Unfortunately, the secret’s out that you can sneak a peek at some of Chester Zoo’s residents from this path and it was relatively heaving on my last visit. The same goes for the Shropshire Union canal towpath which has been getting steadily busier as the sun shines and everyone’s feet get itchier. I’m not immune to this, so busted out the OS map for some local inspiration. On Sunday we completed a 4.5mile loop from Croughton around Picton and Wervin, following a section of the North Cheshire Way. Once we were out in the fields with the large tortoiseshells and oil beetles, life felt much calmer. This is described as Cheshire’s longest path – 70 miles from the Wirral to the Peak District – so we’ll have to see how much more of it we can explore. Stay safe, perhaps off the beaten path.