Beech tree and blue sky - the calm between the storms

A sea of mist - the view from the hill this morning

Sheep in the landscape

Keeping their distance from Dog:

Sheltering in the gullies from former tin-mining on Dartmoor:

Keeping each other warm:

Resting under an old oak tree:

If I were a poet

As Frog and I perused the latest literature from the Devon Wildlife Trust the other evening, Frog pointed out that, while DWT has 48 natures reserves, none of them is in our part of the county. We live, I suppose, in an intensively farmed area and so I have to find wild nature where I can – in an ancient oak tree, an untamed bit of hedge, a corner of a field that has escaped the plough. Maybe that is why these days I find my eyes being constantly drawn upwards. The sky is still more or less as God intended it to be.

If I were a poet I would write about the sky, and if I were an artist I would paint it. As I’m neither, I have to make do with photographs. And here are two I took this morning.

More happy birds

EIGHT blackbirds on the fallen Bramleys this morning. Word is getting out. I wish I could find a way to take a photograph without scaring them all away.