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.
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