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galls

A leaf in the woods

Plant Galls. Sherborne Times.

Jane V AdamsFebruary

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NaturePublished0 Comments 00 min read

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Sculpted from nature… #leaves🍁 #frost #winte

Sculpted from nature…

#leaves🍁 #frost #winter #autumn #woods #art #sculpture #lovenature #feelgood

Remembering the lads, so many with local surnames

Remembering the lads, so many with local surnames going back centuries, who didn’t return to their loved ones in Corfe Mullen. #werememberyou❤️

It’s just an old gate but look closer… it’s

It’s just an old gate but look closer… it’s so much more than that.

#oldgate #lichen #moss #barbedwire #noaccess #norighttoroam #edgeland #fieldownedbyadeveloper #notlonguntilitsgone

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bo

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cider-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft,
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

To Autumn
John Keats
1795 – 1821

Top and tailing the sea with the land. A weekend o

Top and tailing the sea with the land. A weekend of contrasts. Scent of change in the air and a deep longing to go back to the spring. Can we start the year again, please?

#corfemullen #lulworthcove #autumn #october #seaswimming #walking #neartohome #dorset #dorsetcoast #dorsetcountryside @alexthewandawoman #timewithfriends

Low, low tide at The Cove this morning. The lowest

Low, low tide at The Cove this morning. The lowest we’ve ever seen. With the fishing boats dragged from the sea for protection, the dragons teeth lay exposed, so we swam left, heading for the deeper buoys where the seaweed didn’t wrap our legs. It was the calm after the storm. Waves gently lapping. The water stirred and tired. Chilly dawn, warming.

#lulworthcove #wildswimming #seaswimming #dorsetlife #dorset #friends #happyplace

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