Today was a day of rustling creatures. We startled a newt, resting on a long-blown tree trunk just before The Avenue; and a mouse in the holly on the way to the river made quite a racket given its comparatively tiny size.
The wood anemones were on a mission, catching up with the periwinkle. It was too hot for hats, and jackets were light. The river was still quite deep and fast, and the banks of smaller stones beneath the water had shifted in places over the winter, leaving deeper pools than there had been the previous year. The sand was warm in the sun, except under the cool of the bridge. Walking back, the castle rose bright in the sunshine beyond the freshly ploughed field, the redwood and the Sitka spruce in the arboretum behind rising higher even than the naked flagpole.