Garston Wood 01-05-2017
I woke on Bank Holiday Monday feeling great. The sun wasn’t yet shining but I was hopeful. I’d done all the chores, seen butterflies, painted like a demon and now I had the day ahead of me. Then my dad called, my Grandad had passed away in the night. I’d seen him the day before at my Gran’s 90th Birthday Party and today he was gone. I wandered around the house dazed and upset so my wife suggested that we headed out as planned.
We drove over to Garston Wood through Broadchalke, the village where he’d lived for 70 odd years and as we did the memories, long thought forgotten, came flooding back. There was the Cleeve ahead, the field where I’d steered the Combine while Grandad worked the pedals, the forge where I watched him work, the see-saw tree right at the far end of the Cleeve before finally driving past ‘Homelea’ where I could just see that the apple tree that my Grandad had grafted from his fathers’ apple tree was in full blossom.
Once parked we set off to take in the spectacle of Spring – Wood Anemones, Ransoms, Bluebells and the occasional Purple Orchid. It wasn’t until we’d wandered about half way round, and rather ironically left the ‘butterfly’ enclosure, that we encountered our first butterfly. The sun broke from the cloud and drove towards us down the track when little L let out a cry ‘white butterfly dad!’ It was a Green-veined White but it wanted to roost up high. I tried a few record shots but gave up, instead letting little L try out her wildlife filming. The highlight of it for her was when a male Orange-tip bustled in and there was a bit of argy between it and the GVW. She had the presentation down pat, even doing the Attenborough-esque narration!
A little further on a Peacock stopped on an old branch. I don’t know if it was unusual behaviour or because the cloud had momentarily hidden behind the cloud but rather than flying off at my approach it walked away along the branch. I halted and let it settle and backed off after a couple of shots.
The walk continued a Greater Spotted Woodpecker drummed, a Marsh Tit ‘pit-chooed’ and a Cuckoo called. Little L found me a strange larva and chattered away. By the end of the walk I felt not anger or upset, no real morose sadness but a calm feeling of gladness, glad for having known him and learned from him, thank you Grandad.
Have a goodun
Wurzel
Yours has much heavier markings. I may well be up a certain Hill tomorrow since the forecast looks good... 
