#12DaysWild

 I knew the post-Christmas period was going to be difficult, having been only able to meet family for such a  short time, so I'd planned ahead for a variety of things to occupy my thoughts.

First up was the Wildlife Trusts' 12 Days Wild initiative. Like the longer summer-based version, it encourages people to get outside,  make 'wild art', take notice of wildlife, and perhaps help them in some way.

Obviously summer is a more appealing time to get outside, but, from rushing out in my dressing gown to break the ice on the bird bath on frosty mornings to filling seed feeders, there are still things that can be done - I even made a tiny snowman!

Since Christmas the weather has been clearer but much colder, with spectacular sunsets. Some evenings I've been tempted out for a walk, some I've just looked from the warmth of home.

There are always regular avian visitors to the garden - robins, an occasional blackbird, a flock of long-tailed tits, and the resident pigeons - but the cold weather has brought more to the garden - half a dozen blackbirds feasting on rowanberries, both blue- and great- tits, a couple of goldfinches, and a flock of small birds high in the bare branches of a wild cherry which I couldn't identify.

We've missed most of the snow that's covered the rest of the country, both north and south of us, but enough fell one day to cover the lawn - it didn't last long though. 

One day we took a muddy, icy, slippery walk to the wood where I spotted hazel catkins opening (I also thought I'd seen a fox, but that turned about to be a spaniel chasing about) but for the most part I've spent these 12 days at home, checking on the Christmas roses, and the shoots of daffodils and snowdrops.

 I know these aren't strictly speaking 'wild' but snowdrops particularly mark the end of winter, so I'm eager to see them appear each year. I've decided this time to lift a few bulbs and fill some pots to bring some spring cheerfulness to my windowsills early. 

Bluebell woods

With no end to the lockdown in sight, I decided the only way I'd get to see bluebells this year (other than those in the garden) would be to brave the crowds and visit our local wood.

The bluebells were as lovely as ever, some anemones were still flowering, may-blossom starting to open and  the sun shone down through the network of branches and new green leaves, but it didn't feel as calm and relaxing as I'd hoped.

Sitting on the edge of our housing estate, this is always a popular place for people to walk, but there seemed to be more than usual - dog-walkers, families with baby buggies, children on bikes, runners.

 I managed to find a few minutes peace by straying on to the lesser used paths that wind through the centre of the wood, but once I left them there seemed to be someone approaching  every way I turned. I'm a great believer in getting outdoors but I'm turning into someone who'd rather stay home in the garden! I hope I can shake this off when lockdown eventually comes to an end

Dodging people to find wood anemones

During this first week or so of lockdown I haven't really been bothering to take my hour's worth of exercise - I figure than I'm busy enough in the garden to not need to specifically go out walking, and also there are people outside, even if they stay two metres away. I went out on a couple of evenings to catch the sunset, and then one day decided it would be nice to see anemones up in the wood.

It's not a long walk, maybe half an hour so well under the recommended exercise limit. At first the route skirts playing fields, so there's plenty of space to avoid anyone else out walking.






The rough edges have been seeded with wildflowers, and at the moment there are primroses and cowslips in flower there.







 In the wood, hawthorns are coming into leaf, and the wild cherries are in flower.














I couldn't see frogspawn on the ponds, but these two ducks seem to have take up residence in one of the smaller ones. You need to look closely to see them - the drake is hiding behind the reeds on the right, and the duck is in the water behind the black 'planter' in the centre.

A little further on, the first bluebells were showing colour, but by this point I was getting worried about the number of people around - the path isn't very wide, and everyone seemed to be walking their dog there, and not worrying too much about keeping their distance.

Fortunately the anemones are off the main path, and I doubt many people know where to find them. There isn't much of a path to them at all these days, as the volunteer organisation in charge tries to keep everyone on the main path by 'fencing' it with brushwood and logs, and the smaller paths are dropping out of use (the beautiful display of bluebells won't be visible if these plans go ahead, which is a shame). 
 There are three or four clumps of wood anemones in different areas of the wood, but without paths it's too easy to end up in brambles, so I just headed for the easiest to find - a patch maybe a couple of metres square. Having found what I'd come looking for, I decided it was best to head home. I'd intended to walk the full circuit of the wood, but I'll leave that for another time, later in the evening, when fewer folks are out and about.

Rainy walk in the Wood

'It looks nice this morning,' I said.

'I'll come along dog-walking'

We were hardly out the door when the rain started.

It made the leaves in their autumnal reds and yellows brighter, but the pumpkins (I assume put out for wildlife to eat) sadder.

Sunsets - Shipley Park, and The Wood

Not able to get away to the seaside, I miss dramatic sunsets over open water. Finding a good place to see them inland is harder, especially in the middle of housing.

I've been out looking though - first to Shipley Country Park which has an open aspect to the west over farm land

Then the next evening, just a short walk from home to a spot where, with luck, the sun will set over the Derbyshire countryside.

There are plans to build houses in these fields but I'm hoping the view isn't completely blocked.

 It wasn't a wonderful sunset (the sun sank into a bank of cloud) but a photogenic tree or two, and a pinky-red glow on the horizon, make a nice enough photo.