This narrow lane is a busy cut-through and we often have to stand to one side because of the traffic. Between the passing places the verges are uncut, and their flowers have grown tall after spring’s heavy rainfall. Either side is hedged and the more interesting flora is in the north‑facing verge, separated from a narrow band of woodland by a deep ditch. The trees are mainly Scots pine and beech, from which a chaffinch calls insistently on this sunny morning.
The flowers of wood avens shine a deep lemon yellow, their stems arching over freshly green grasses. There’s a delicate tracery of leaves from herb robert, dandelions going to seed and the clear white stars of stitchwort. Clambering stems of bush vetch entwine with emerging brambles; the petals of this common legume are a dirty purple, a smudgy colour that is hard to define. Bright meadow buttercups stand tall and, later on, there’ll be meadowsweet and knapweed.
