(designed to read with the window set to two-thirds of the screen width)
I left that spot to avoid the sight of a man forcing a woman to fetch and kick back a football - she makes gestures of reluctance and independence, if not refusal, which he ignores. How often do we force others to do our wishes?
In a birch wood. Ferns are unrolling their leaves. Many other plants: mare's tail, bramble, various grasses. Also buzzing flies, a bee, and the tall white tree trunks growing slightly inclined - I lean against one as I inscribe this on the handheld.
Fresh cool air from the east, ivy on the older trees, a large bumble bee, and now I can see some campion in bloom. This is certainly summer...
I come to a swamp and have to walk through nettles, as tall as my legs, to avoid it. I cannot avoid trampling on some of them...
...and now I'm sitting on a moss covered seat in memory of David Atkin 1904 to 1972 ... I realise that he was born a hundred years ago.
I see another man and woman kicking a football between them. Both seem to be enjoying it.
I pause to look at a mass of hundreds of white hawthorn blossoms* and then pick up a white leaf/flower that has fallen from what I think is a kind of lime tree**.
The rhododendrums are in bloom - cerise, white, yellow, pale pink, purple - and a someone is photographing the Barbara Hepworth sculpture*** that stands among them... The magnolia, which a few weeks ago was entirely flowers, is now entirely leaves.
Outdoor cafe. The price of tea and cake has risen about 20% to £3.40. I realise that I come here less often since the price increased. If such price rises continue I will soon have to change my way of living.
I sit to listen to a blackbird. Quite complicated music. Do I hear another replying - or are they independent? Now it flies to a branch 50 metres away and I can no longer hear it.
As I wrote that, a woman whom I often see on the heath paused to remark on the beautiful weather.
Meadow. I stop to look at a black object - putting on my reading glasses I see it's a butterfly with folded wings. As I look, the wings open to show four blue and white spots and two orange-brown patches - and before I can open the handheld it's gone... And as I write this, I watch a caterpillar (about a centimetre long) moving down my jacket... and now it's climbing up again. I let it climb onto a finger and blow it into the grass.
I'm reluctant to leave this place.
The butterfly has come back to exactly the same spot - on a seat in memory of Hilda Gwendoline Parker. No date... And a woman with a dog goes by and says 'Hello there!'. I don't know her. Someone called Toby has carved his name on this seat - probably decades ago for the letters are worn by people sitting on them.
I notice an insect less than a millimetre long on the screen of the handheld and attempt to brush it off - but I probably killed it.
The butterfly returns again to the same spot - but only for a few seconds.
**I can't find (in Roger Phillips' book) a variety of Lime in which the last leaf on a branch is white and has a 'clock' of seeds like a dandelion. But the green leaves certainly resemble lime leaves.
digital diary archive© 2002, 2003 john chris jones
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