Daily Field

First ice on the gate puddle

2026-11-07T09:00:00Z

The fog sat in the lower meadow until almost ten. Every fence post had a spider web strung between the wire and the wood, heavy with drops, and the whole line of them glittered when the sun finally came through.

The puddle by the gate has frozen at the edges for the first time this season — a thin rim of ice, clear enough to see the dead leaves underneath. It was gone by the time I came back round.

Two jays were arguing in the oaks, unseen. A wren ticked at me from the brash pile and would not come out.

Ink caps by the woodpile

2026-11-03T09:00:00Z

Most of the tansy along the ditch has gone brown, but a few flower heads are still stubbornly yellow.

A cluster of shaggy ink caps has come up beside the old woodpile — eleven of them, the tallest about the length of my hand. Two had already started to dissolve at the rim into black drips. By Friday they will be gone.

A buzzard circled twice over the far hedge, mewing, and drifted off toward the river.

Geese, finally

2026-10-27T09:00:00Z

Heard them long before I saw them: a ragged skein, maybe sixty birds, high and heading south-west. The sound carries strangely in low cloud.

The rowan by the bench has been stripped bare in two days. Fieldfares — a flock of thirty or so — lift out of the hedge every time I pass and settle again behind me.

A hare in the stubble

2026-10-20T09:00:00Z

The stubble field to the east has been left this year instead of ploughed straight away. This morning a hare was sitting right in the middle of it, ears flat, perfectly still. I only noticed because of the low sun catching its eye.

It let me walk most of the way along the headland before it ran — not away, but in a wide loop, and then sat up again where it had started.

Skylarks still going up from the stubble, though they only sing in short bursts now.

Spindle berries

2026-10-12T09:00:00Z

The spindle bush at the bottom corner is the best it has been for years: shocking pink capsules split open to show the orange seeds. It looks artificial against the grey hedge.

After the rain the path smelled of wet leaves and something like mushrooms. Several fairy-ring champignons in the short grass near the stile.

A small flock of long-tailed tits moved through the hawthorns, calling all the time, never staying more than a few seconds on one twig.

The swallows have gone

2026-10-02T09:00:00Z

No swallows over the meadow today, for the first time since April. Last week there were still a dozen hawking low over the wet corner. They may still be somewhere along the river, but here the air is empty.

The ditch is running again after the showers. Water mint along its edge, still smelling strongly when brushed.

Crane flies everywhere

2026-09-24T09:00:00Z

The long grass by the fence was alive with crane flies — every step put up a dozen of them, dangling their legs. Starlings have noticed: a loose flock of about forty working across the meadow in short runs.

Blackberries along the south hedge are past their best now, watery and a bit mouldy. A few late ones at the top, out of reach.

A kestrel hovered over the rough grass for a long time, dropped once, missed, and moved on.

Dew and hawkers

2026-09-15T09:00:00Z

Heavy dew this morning: my boots were soaked through before the first gate. The low sun made the whole meadow look silver.

On the way back, in the warmth, a migrant hawker patrolled the sheltered side of the hedge, up and down the same twenty metres, ignoring me completely.

Ivy on the old ash tree is just coming into flower, and already busy with wasps and a couple of red admirals.

The loop in September

2026-09-06T09:00:00Z

Started this notebook properly today. The plan is simple: the same loop every morning, a few lines when I get back, no matter how little happened.

The meadow was cut in July and has grown back short and even. The headland along the stubble field is full of scentless mayweed and field pansy.

Swallows over the wet corner, maybe twenty. A robin singing its thin autumn song from the hawthorn by the stile.